Supernaturalgate
by Nanari
Summary: This is a crossover between Supernatural and Stargate Sg1, focused primarily on a Tok'ra the boys run into. Sam and Dean expect nothing more than a routine exorcism, but can they deal with a young alien tagging along, eager for new experiences? OTok'raC
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: The words in italics are thoughts, in between slashes and italicized are the thoughts of the Tok'ra symbiote. This takes place somewhere in the second season of Supernatural, and somewhere between seasons 7 and 8 in Stargate Sg-1. Let me know if the formatting works.Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue:**

"This is going to be wonderful." _//Calm down, Sarai, you're behaving like a young child, and we want to make a good impression on our allies.// You're right, R'kenoth, sorry. //They need to see that I'm mature enough for this! Do you want me to do the talking?// Yes, I think you'd better. _

The young woman dipped her head, and when she faced the group again, her eyes glowed for an instant before settling into a normal appearance. "Please excuse Sarai's exuberance. She is looking forward to a multitude of new experiences. As am I, truth be told. Although I am only of middle age for a Tok'ra, I have seen many cultures, and am anxious to learn more about the Tau'ri, of whom we do not have much knowledge."

"That's something we're glad to hear, R'kenoth. When we first came up with the idea for this exchange program, we weren't sure the Tok'ra would think Earth culture a worthy subject of study." General Hammond relaxed slightly in his chair at the head of the briefing room table. "Unfortunately our past experiences with the Tok'ra have not all been as beneficial as we would have liked."

"Once I convinced Anise of the value of learning more about 'primitive' cultures in order to help them develop apart from Goa'uld interference…" Daniel began.

Sam interrupted, "And we're very glad they decided to send you and Sarai as the first participants."

"Over the next few days, SG-1 has been assigned to take you around Colorado Springs and let you observe this corner of the United States, and then next week you'll be taking a short trip with Colonel O'Neill up to Denver to observe our political process at the state level." General Hammond proceeded to explain the itinerary, as the interplanetary exchange student listened with the full focus of host and symbiote attention.

**Chapter One:**

**_Gas Station off I-25, somewhere in Colorado:_**

A black Impala pulled up to the pump, and a young man in leather jacket got out of the car, bending over to say something to the figure in the passenger seat before heading into the convenience store. The man was of average height, strongly built with features that told of heartbroken women left behind. Currently, his full lips were twisted into a smirk, which widened into a grin as he caught sight of a fellow traveler stopped for gas. He only had a moment to stare at the young woman standing outside a black SUV since his mission, unfortunately, was to get gas and keep moving, not to pick up cute chicks. He gave the brunette a quick nod as he passed, before entering the store.

His brother, left to sit in the well-kept classic car, had followed Dean's progress and took notice of his brother's distraction. Sam sighed. The oldest Winchester brother was absolutely incorrigible when it came to women. _C'mon, man! She's with somebody!_ Sam had observed the black SUV as they pulled in, and had noticed an older man talking to the woman before going inside to pay for gas. The silver-haired man was emerging from the store even as Dean went inside, and went over to begin filling up his gas guzzling vehicle. _Even if he is old enough to be her father, and for all we know he might be!_

Sam glanced around the area out of boredom, since the hottie Dean had spotted had moved out of sight. Besides the Impala and SUV there was only one other car getting fuel, a nondescript pick-up truck with a fading coat of red paint. The owner was no where to be seen, and Sam absently noted that he hadn't seen the man go into the store, and must've already been inside when they pulled in. _Dude, how long does it take to pay for gas, come on!_

They had noticed a number of strange weather patterns centered on Colorado Springs over the last ten years, and had decided to investigate, since one of the signs which heralded the presence of the demon responsible for their mother's death was unusual storms. They hadn't had any other leads in months, and although it was a long shot, it was all they had to go on. Not to mention there were always one or two haunted houses they could clean in any given city. Sam's stomach growled. _That's it, _he thought, _Dean's taking too long. I've gotta get a Snickers or something._ Just as he unbuckled his seat belt, the unmistakable sound of a gun shot rang out, and Sam leapt out of the car in time to see the pretty young woman he and Dean had observed fall to the ground as she opened the door of the convenience store.

_**Fifteen minutes earlier:**_

A black SUV pulled into the gas station, stopping next to a pump. "O'Neill, I don't understand why we're stopping? I thought we wanted to get to Denver early so you could show me around before the meeting?"

"Sarai?" She nodded, "Call me Jack, and good work on the "I" thing. And yes, we will get there early, but I have to fill up, refuel, the truck." Jack unbuckled his seat belt, and mentally congratulated himself on his brilliant excuse for not having to wear his Class A's all day. Getting there early enough to sight see meant getting there with enough time to take a shower and change. "These things are great for impressive looking rescue ops, but man! I'm just glad the SGC is paying for gas and not me." He got out of the truck, and Sarai followed suit. "Just stay here, I have to go in and pay. Don't touch anything, just – observe."

Sarai followed his instructions, but she complained to R'kenoth. _Reken, I want to see _everything_ on Earth! Why won't he let me come inside//Sarai, you're sounding like a child again. I think there will plenty of other opportunities to see the inside of these fueling stations, we've passed many of them this week.// True. And this way I can get a closer look at the different types of vehicles they use. _Sarai looked around, and caught the eye of a man walking past, who smiled at her and dipped his head. _Well, at least some Tau'ri are polite. I'm glad Arnoast was wrong about the normal ones being rude and violent. // Arnoast__ is just a sour old Tok'ra who's lived in his little hole too long. The Tau'ri are people, and come in all varieties of character.//_

Sarai wasn't listening, for she had caught sight of a beautiful, sleek, shiny black transport sitting by a gas pump across from them. _Oh R'kenoth. She's beautiful!_ Sarai breathed. _If we ever get a transport vehicle of our own while we're here, we have to get one like that. Even the High Counsel would have to admit no ship looks better! _R'kenoth let out a dry chuckle. _//I'm afraid you may be on your own in your love for these primitive transports, Sarai. It still uses the wheel! But I admit, there is something aesthetically pleasing about that one. Although the man inside it staring at us is a bit disconcerting…//_

Before Sarai could launch into further raptures about the car, Jack returned, and began filling up the SUV. "Ah, Sarai, I'll be right back, okay?"

"What are you doing now?"

"Call of nature. Won't take more than a minute or two. And keep an eye on the pump."

"Call of nature? What-" //_It's a human euphemism for when they need to urinate or otherwise dispose of their bodily waste.// _R'kenoth explained. _Oh. _Sarai leaned back against the truck. _R'kenoth, how do I 'keep an eye on the pump'?_ But this even the Tok'ra could not decipher. They had had only a limited time to prepare for this mission, and there were many, many human euphemisms and colloquialisms to learn that the Stargate could not aid in translating, only a few of which R'kenoth had time to study. //_I sorry, Sarai, I do not recall the meaning of that phrase.// I suppose we can go ask him. _Sarai suggested. Receiving the assent from R'kenoth, Sarai left the car and walked toward the glass doors which lead into the building. If Sarai had been a human, what happened next may not have occurred. Then again, if she had been human, she would not have had to find and ask O'Neill to explain himself. For most humans know that gas station bathrooms are often on the outside of the building, not inside, and Sarai would not have caught the attention of the unstable man in the process of robbing the clerk as she opened the front door. The gun, pointed at the clerk, was suddenly aimed at her and a loud "crack" filled her ears. Pain blossomed in her stomach, and Sarai found herself on the ground, bleeding from a bullet wound in her middle.

The would-be robber stared at her for a split second, stunned at what he had done. It wasn't supposed to go down like this! He would just wave the gun around, get the money, and leave! He didn't have a choice, he needed the money, he had to get his fix! It wasn't his fault! She shouldn't have opened the door!

It had all gone wrong from the start. He was just getting gas when the call came, and he found out he had to get another $100 before they'd sell him more crack! He had a gun, and there was a store with money right there! He'd gone in, lurked in the back for awhile, and had just stepped up to make his demands when a man in a leather jacket had entered. The man had picked up a few snacks, and got out his wallet to pay for them when he'd seen his chance and stuck the gun to the back of the guy's head. "PUT THE WALLET ON THE COUNTER, NOW!" he grabbed the clerk's collar and pulled him close at the same time, preventing him from hitting the alarm. "I WANT EVERYTHING IN THE CASH REGISTER! DO IT OR HE'S DEAD!"

The man in the leather jacket had tried talking to him, but Robbie wasn't listening. He was sweating, and the gun was shaking, but all he could think about was the few bills in front of him. The clerk stuttered and apologized, saying it had been a slow day, and he didn't have access to anymore, and please don't shoot, Oh God, please, and… the bell on the door jingled and Robbie reacted without thinking, moving the gun from the man's head to point at the sound. Somehow the gun went off, but Robbie didn't remember pulling the trigger.

The clerk ducked down behind the counter and the man in leather leapt towards him. Robbie fired wildly, grabbed as many bills as he could and ran for his truck, firing a few more times behind him to discourage pursuit. He could feel wetness on his face, but he wasn't sure if it was sweat or tears. It didn't matter. He had the money. He would go get high, and he would forget all about the girl, forget about everything. Escape.

"No!" He had done his best to talk the guy down, but it had been hopeless the moment Dean recognized the signs of drug addiction. It was pretty obvious, since only a psycho or a junkie would try to rob a gas station in the middle of the day. Dean dropped to the floor as the thief fired at him. The bullet grazed his shoulder, but it wasn't bad. The girl, however, had taken her shot full on. A few more bullets whizzed by over head as the desperate robber had fire back wildly, but as soon as it stopped Dean jumped up and ran outside to where the girl lay curled up on the pavement, lying in a growing puddle of her own blood.

Sam ran up, gun in hand, as Dean knelt by the injured woman. "Dean, are you okay? I saw the shooter, but he got in his truck and drove off before I could do anything."

"Yeah, I'm fine. But she's not. Took a shot nearly at point blank range."

"Sarai, Rekenoth!" The silver haired man Sam had seen earlier ran over to them, a Beretta held comfortably in his hand. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force, who the hell are you." He demanded tersely.

Dean sat back on his knees, hands raised in surrender. "Just concerned bystanders, sir. We saw your friend get shot and wanted to try and help."

Jack looked at the boys, and made a split second decision. "Fine. Stay here with her, try and staunch the bleeding, but don't call 9-1-1. I'll give my people a call." He ran to the SUV, quickly pulling out the gas pump and closing the tank cover. Jumping into the driver's seat, he gunned the engine and the SUV peeled out of the gas station in pursuit if the shooter, who Jack had glimpsed as he ran around the corner from the bathroom.

"What?" Dean asked, completely confused as to what had just happened. "Screw that, she just got shot!" He exclaimed, disregarding the man's orders. "Sammy, call 9-1-1."

"Already on it." And indeed, even as Jack had jumped into his truck, Sam had pulled out and dialed his cell phone.


	2. Chapter 1, Part 2

And, here it is, the continuation of the previous chapter. (I'm gonna try to stay away from shippiness, but it's hard, both brothers are too dang cute!)

* * *

The paramedics had been called, and the Winchester brothers found themselves in charge, for the time being of a seriously injured young woman they didn't know. A strange young woman in more ways than one as they discovered when they tried talking to her.

"Hey, hang in, okay? Help's on the way." Sam soothed, crouching down near her head. "What's your name?"

The woman was breathing hard, pain making her clench her teeth. "Please…don't talk to me…" She managed.

Dean smirked at Sam, finally someone who didn't melt under his little brother's "Captain Empathy" display. "Well, I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam. And trust me; you really can't _stop_ him from talking. I suggest you do what I do and just tune it out." Sam made a face at Dean, but it was only out of habit, as his attention was still on the girl. She looked about 18 or 19, just a few years younger then the brothers, wearing nondescript clothing. It was pure chance that she had gotten shot. It easily could've been someone else, like his brother!

"I am R'kenoth. I apologize for being rude but it is difficult to speak with a stomach wound." Prepared for another terse answer, the boys were surprised by the reply, especially considering that Sam's first request for a name had been completely rebuffed and ignored.

"Um…." Dean said.

"That's …..a nice name." Managed Sam. While making "WTF?" faces at his brother over the girl's crumpled form.

"What is it, Greek?" Dean asked, trying to keep her talking and distracted from the pain. She was still curled up, and though he had rolled up his jacket and put it underneath her head, and Sam had donated his sweatshirt to staunch the bleeding from the exit wound on her back, they couldn't do much for the injury itself. _Damnit! _Dean hated feeling helpless.

"'Greek'?" Mouthed Sam in disbelief.

"I don't know!" Dean whispered back, "It was the first thing that came to mind!"

Sam tried to think of what language the name might be from to show up Dean, but he was drawing a blank. What kind of a name _was_ "Rekenoth" anyway? Reh-ken-oth. Talk about strange.

They were spared from further attempts at conversation by the arrival of an ambulance, followed closely by a cop car. "Dean, stay with her, I'll take care of the cops." Sam said quickly. With Dean's history, the last thing they needed was scrutiny by the police department of Colorado.

The paramedics approached the wounded girl and Dean stepped back, telling them what he knew of her condition. "She was conscious a second ago!" He protested, when the EMT informed him she had passed out into a comatose state. He looked on, helpless and frustrated, as they prepared to strap her to a stretcher and take her to the ambulance. Fighting evil was a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the aftermath of human cruelty and greed.

Sam gave his statement to the police, using a false name of course, and introducing Dean as his cousin Steve.

"Hi there." Dean smiled, at his most charming. Just as he shook the officer's hand, and prepared to tell what he saw happen, a pair of black SUVs pulled into the gas station with a squeal of breaks.

"U.S. Air Force, we're taking control of this investigation." A blonde woman with short hair jumped out of the driver's side on the lead vehicle, and addressed the officers the boys were talking to.

"Excuse me?" Responded the lead police officer in confusion. "You don't have jurisdiction here, this is just a gas station robbery."

"It involves matters of national security, I'm afraid." The Air Force officer led the police away to continue their conversation, but the Winchester brothers had heard plenty already.

"Sam, did I miss something here? A guy tries to rob a gas station and a girl gets shot. Were there terrorists here too and I just didn't see 'em?"

"I dunno, Dean. Maybe the girl's somebody important…" They turned and looked. Sure enough, there were two men from the government SUVs crouched over the injured young woman, a large black man in a stocking cap and an average looking guy with glasses. They were instructing the paramedics to leave her alone, and despite protestations, the EMTs did as they were told, packing up their gear. The Air Force men assured them they had the appropriate resources and training.

"Hey! What're you doing?" Dean demanded, stalking over to them. "That girl just got shot, and you're sending the paramedics away?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "These guys are with the Feds, stay out of it!"

The black man stood up, his massive frame making Dean appear even smaller than he usually did next to Sam. "Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. We will take proper care of her." He said impassively.

Dean lost some of his bluster in the face of such a solid obstacle, but made one last try. "The dude she was with left in our care, how do we know you're with him?"

"O'Neill was perceptive in evaluating your character, but your services are no longer required. You may continue your journey." He added, with a significant glance at the only car left at the gas station not belonging to the police or the Air Force.

"Yeah, we were just leaving. Tell your friend we're sorry and we hope she gets better soon." Sam jumped in, before Dean could say anything else. With a quick glance back at the figure of the girl on the ground, they headed back to their car.

SG-1 had gotten a phone call from Jack regarding their Tok'ra "exchange student" and had broken all speed limits in their haste to reach the scene before local authorities, since it was imperative that they prevent Sara (and R'kenoth) from falling into the hands of ordinary doctors. Luckily, Jack had not gotten very far away from the USAF Academy where SG-1 had been attending a meeting with some of the instructors.

On arriving, Daniel had immediately gone to Sarai and dealt with the paramedics. "Sarai, R'kenoth, can you hear me?" The medics had said she was nonresponsive, but Daniel suspected it might just be the Tok'ra was following the emergency procedure they had worked out, and was lying low.

"Yes, Dr. Jackson."

His suspicions confirmed, he heaved a sigh of relief. "What happened, how bad is the injury."

"A bullet hit us in the mid-section, close range so it passed right through. It missed many of the vital organs, but caused significant tissue damage. I'm doing what I can, but it will take me several days to repair the damage. Blood loss is heavy, but not yet a primary issue."

"Okay. We have some medical supplies with us, but we're going to take you to the base infirmary for now."

R'kenoth nodded weakly in assent. "I believe we can stand with assistance. Sarai is frightened and in pain, so she is letting me take control for the time being. She has not endured as many wounds as I have."

Daniel smiled grimly. He knew precisely what the Tok'ra meant. "Teal'c!" He called; noting that the jaffa had finished speaking with the two witnesses of the shooting, the two men Jack had trusted enough to leave them with Sarai. Daniel made a mental note to check up on them. _That black car is pretty distinctive...license number KAZ 2Y5..._ "Help me get her to the truck."

As Teal'c and Daniel helped her to her feet, Sarai muttered something to Daniel before letting Rekenoth take control again. "Pretty car…" _//And they weren't bad looking either…//_

Dean dropped into the driver's seat, rather pissed. "They have no right to just _dismiss_ us like that! We were trying to help, and we barely get a thank you!"

Sam stared out the window at the continuing activity around the wounded girl.

"But fine, if they don't want our help, we might as well leave. It's not like this has anything to do with us anyway."

"Dude, not everything has to be our business. Do you seriously want that chick to be possessed or something just so we'll have an excuse to get involved?" Sam asked.

"What? Nah, man, I'm just saying—" Both brothers were watching the proceedings, but Dean forgot what he was saying when he saw it, wondering for a minute if it was just his imagination or a trick of the light.

It was Sam who spoke first. "Did you--?"

"Yup."

"Guess this is our business after all."


	3. Chapter 2

Here's the next bit, thanks for all your reviews!

* * *

**Chapter Two: **

The moment Sam saw the girl's eyes flash; he felt a thrill of adrenaline race through him. A half-second glance at Dean confirmed his brother's own anticipation of the hunt.

"Possession?"

"Could be, but if so, it's laying low. Pretty unusual for a demon."

"She was acting pretty strange. Shape shifter?"

"Only one way to find out, let's go."

The shiny black Chevy Impala pulled out some distance behind the two Government Issue black SUVs, and the hunt was on. This wasn't the first quarry they'd followed in a car, so Dean made certain to leave plenty of room between the pursuers and the pursuees. The last thing they needed was trouble with the Air Force.

The government vehicles led them to Peterson Air Force Base, where the lead car stopped, and the blonde woman, evidently the woman in charge of the operation, got out in order to have an argument with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone call.

Watching from up the road, Sam and Dean took turns with binoculars to observe the action. "Man, she is _pissed_ about something." Dean commented.

"What on earth can it be waiting for?" Sam mused out loud. "It went with them docilely enough, seemed to know them."

"Dude, it's going to an Air Force base, and a pretty major one at that. Imagine the kind of chaos a 'shifter or a demon could do in there! Say hello to World War Three."

Sam shuddered. "We've got to stop it."

"No shit, Sherlock. Which is why it's a good thing I still have these:" Dean held up a pair of plastic identification cards. "These're the military IDs Dad got for us when we did that banshee job a couple of years ago, remember?"

"Dean, that was seven years ago."

"You haven't changed that much!" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off. "I changed the dates, you moron. We'll wait till it gets darker, and then go take a look."

* * *

R'kenoth relinquished control to her host after they were in the car and had left the gas station, and concentrated on repairing the tissue and internal systems which had been damaged by the bullet. Sarai seemed to have recovered from her fright, and since R'Kenoth was blocking most of the pain, she was able to quiz Daniel about the two guys who'd helped her. "...and their vehicle? Absolutely gorgeous." 

"You mean that old, black car? It did seem to be in great condition. I'm sure Sam could give you the exact model, make, and year."

On hearing her name, Sam glanced back quickly before refocusing her attention on the road. "I only got a glimpse Daniel, since I was kind of occupied, but I can tell you it's a '67 Chevy Impala. Very nicely restored, I'd say, runs like a dream."

"You can tell all that just from a glance?" Daniel asked, amazed. Even Teal'c was impressed, though you'd have to be able to read his eyebrows in order to get that.

"Well, from a quick glance, and from the fact that they've been following us." The major replied. "They're not totally obvious, so don't bother looking back…" She began, but Daniel had already made a brief scan out the rear window.

"Why would they follow us?" He thought out loud. "They can't be that worried about a stranger, can they? I mean, no offense meant to anyone, but two young guys with a car like that, I'd say their interest in an attractive young woman involves something else besides an impartial interest in her well being, if you get my drift."

Teal'c, from the passenger seat, looked back at him. "They seemed to have purely honorable intentions when they expressed concern over insuring proper medical treatment for her wound."

Daniel shrugged. "Still, I'd like to run that car through the system, find out who these guys are."

Sam nodded. "Me, too. I've already sent the license number in to be checked out, so we should have our answers by the time we get to base.

The musical sounds of Copa Cabana suddenly filled the car, and Daniel, Sam, and Sarai looked around in confusion. Teal'c answered his cell phone. "O'Neill, we have the Tok'ra…should we not proceed to Cheyenne Mountain?"

Sam and Daniel exchanged glances, and Sam held out her hand for the phone, taking a quick right corner to challenge her tail. "Sir, where are we taking her? She needs the medical facilities at the SGC….but….Fine. See you there." She closed the phone and tossed it to Teal'c with a grim frown. "SGC's off limits, we're going to Peterson."

Daniel recognized his cue _not_ to ask, and the rest of the trip was fairly quiet. Quiet that is, except for the occasional "Are they still following?" or "I believe we just passed the bar which you, Major Carter, along with Daniel Jackson and Colonel O'Neill were thrown out of for starting a fight." Luckily, the drive was not long.

Sam pulled the SUV into the drive leading to the base, and pulled to the side of the road just outside the gates to answer her cell phone. Although no longer frowning, the serious look she wore betrayed her displeasure at the current situation to her teammates. "I'll find out what's going on, hang on a second. Sarai, you doing okay?"

The younger woman nodded. "Yeah, R'kenoth says we should be fine with rest, and won't need any major surgery or blood transfusions. She does want to know if you have access to a healing device like the Tok'ra have, since that would help her immensely."

"Good. I'll make a request for one from Area 51, since I don't think we have any at the SGC at the moment. Daniel, keep an eye on her. Teal'c, can you go make sure they've got proper accommodations for us? Take SG-22 with you."

Sam stepped down from the driver's side and flipped open her phone, as Teal'c got out of the other side and moved back to the second SUV to get in with SG-22, who drove past to the checkpoint before entering the base a moment later.

"Sir, I'm ready to hear your reasoning. Why have we brought a wounded alien to a conservative Air Force base instead of a secret facility where she could be taken care of correctly?" Normally calm and reserved, Sam was confused and uneasy. After a few pointed comments, Sam actually was ready to listen, and shut up so Jack could talk. Later, Sam reflected that all things considered it was a good thing they'd been working together for so long, because she had been incredibly out of line. Scientist Sam had momentarily overtaken Soldier Sam with her desire to know the _reasons_ for the orders being given, instead of just obeying them automatically. "Colonel, I thought this was a clear cut operation. Was he something other than a normal, small time thief? I had to admit, I did wonder if it was the Trust, but they're usually much more competent." Jack replied that yes, he was just a druggy looking for some extra cash, but something had come up at the SGC, and caused a hiccup in their plans. "Something's come up?" Sam repeated, her irritation transforming to concern. "What, is it a foothold situation? Some kind of chemical spill, or lab accident? Is everyone alright?"

Jack sheepishly admitted that apparently some of the damage from the latest alien attack had damaged internal systems to the point that the mountain had gone into lockdown…

Sam couldn't believe what she was hearing. "….You've locked yourself in?"

"Carter, this is not a joke. Why are you the only one who can figure these things out? They say it'll be at least another two hours before we can admit or release anyone from the compound."

"Seriously? You guys actually locked the mountain and lost the keys?"

"Major! What's the status on our guest?"

"She's doing alright, mostly needs rest. Can you send an official request to Area 51 for a healing device? Or have you screwed up the computer system too?"

"Walter! I'll make sure someone gets it to you. And please, don't tell Peterson what happened! The Jarheads will never let us live it down, let alone those cocky pilots…"

"Yes, Sir. Sir?"

"Yeah, Carter?"

"I'm sorry for taking your head off earlier…if I had known it was just a matter of being locked out…" Sam bit back a laugh.

"Carter? Bite me."

* * *

Dean looked at his watch. They'd been on stakeout now for nearly two hours, and although it was still early afternoon, clouds had come in, making the day darker. 

"Dean? Do we really have to sit here until it gets dark? There's bound to be a cop or something that comes by and notices us. Besides, we missed lunch, and I'm starving! We can come back tonight and do this."

"Dude, you are such a whiner. But, for once, a whiner with a point. I'm starvin' too. Let's go grab a burger, and come back after dark to kill the evil son of a bitch."

* * *

Daniel answered his cell phone and leaned back in the plastic chair in the base infirmary waiting room. "Daniel Jackson." It actually hadn't been too bad, making sure all the medical staff knew they had to take special care with this patient, and restricting the area to necessary and authorized personnel only. The hardest part had been convincing the doctors why they couldn't just go to the SGC, without revealing the latest base mishap. Honestly, what kind of a top military organization locks a team out of their own base? "Hey Jack, how's it going? Did you remember where you put that key yet? No, I'm pretty sure I'd notice if it was there….Okay...good….She's actually doing alright here, but I'm sure the doctors would feel better if she were under the care of someone with appropriate clearance….Those two guys? What'd you find?" 

Evidently, quite a bit. Sam and Dean Winchester were the only children of John and Mary Winchester, both deceased. The young men had been very busy, and had a variety of warrants out for their arrest across the United States. The oldest warrant cited Credit Card Fraud, but what caught Daniel's eye was the warrant for Dean Winchester on the charge of aggravated murder. Dean Winchester, according to the report that went with the warrant, was dead. "Jack, he looked pretty lively for a dead guy….and you checked..? …yes, Jack, I realize that "that coming from me" is ironic…"

Further more, testimony from witnesses and acquaintances of the boys seemed to point to the fact that they believed they were demon hunters, or put in other words, crazy. "…really? And people thought I was nuts for my theories, which I actually had logical arguments for! What?...Actually, that would explain why they've been following us…Jack…yeah….that's what I was thinking…...I'll let Sam know…. I think we've got a plan…"


	4. Chapter 2, part 2

Here's the next piece of the puzzle!_**  
**_

* * *

_**Later that night, outside Peterson Air Force Base**_

"Got the book?"

"Yes Dean, I've got the book. Did you remember to bring your gun?"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Shutting the trunk, the two brothers walked up the road, Sam hefting their bag of supplies over his shoulder and praying that the guards at the gate were tired and bored and not looking for trouble. It seemed that whatever higher power there was heard those prayers, because it only took one glance at their IDs and a quick once over before they were allowed on base.

"Alright, they probably took it to a medical facility 'cause of the bullet wound. We need to find a directory."

"Let's try this building first." Dean led the way across the dark expense which led to the first building. The lights were on, and the door was open, so the boys walked in cautiously.

"Hi there! Can I help you two?" A young woman sitting behind a desk greeted them with a smile, despite the late hour. "You look a little lost."

Sam stepped up. "Ah, yes, actually. We were told our sister was taken to the infirmary, but we don't know where that is, we were just transferred here, and haven't quite learned the ropes yet." He smiled sincerely.

"Of course." She answered, and got out a map for them.

Dean, for a change, wasn't leering at the secretary, but was instead staring around at the posters on the wall. One was for the Marines, another for Army, and there were multiple recruitment posters for the Air Force. _I wonder if I would've joined up if Mom had lived…_

Sam studied the map as the secretary described where they were going, and then smiled and thanked her. "We were worried no one would be around this late, so thank you very much for your help."

"You're welcome. I hope your sister is okay."

Sam nudged his brother, who flashed a polite smile and a "thanks" before they left.

"Dude, what was that?"

"What?"

"That secretary was young and pretty and you barely glanced at her!"

"Maybe I was just more concerned with making sure we get the demon."

Sam looked incredulously at his brother. "You're joking, right? Since when has being on a hunt kept you from hitting on girls?"

"Sam, can we please focus here? Where are we goin'?"

Sam reluctantly let the matter drop, and pointed to a building across the square. "That building, second door on the right, down a hallway, and we'll come to the nurses station, she said we should ask there, for the room number."

As they walked across the grounds they formulated their plan. "If it's still pretending to be injured, it'll probably be in a bed, one or two guards max."

"Why would there be guards? For all we know they think she's an innocent bystander."

"An innocent bystander who they wouldn't let the medics take to a normal hospital. For whatever reason, Dean, she's special."

"Fine, so, one or two guards, and a hospital room. Are we doing this as an exorcism? Or are we just gonna fling around Holy Water and hope for the best."

"I don't think we'll have enough time for an exorcism unless she's incapacitated by the Holy Water."

"Unless we do a salt ring to confine her." Dean opened the door and the walked down the hall until they came to the second doorway on their right.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Hey, what's our sister's name?"

"Reckon-something? Wasn't that it?"

"Let's call her Sarah, hmm? It's the most common name on the planet; we're bound to hit something." Dean flashed a grin at his little brother, "Relax! This'll be a walk in the park."

"Hope so. Once we get to the nurses station and figure out where we're headed, I think a distraction is called for."

"Hmm, smoke bomb?"

"Nah, we don't want to make them evacuate the patients."

"I'll just empty a clip in the opposite direction, no problem. Hey, do you think once we exorcise this bitch, the chick'll be so appreciative she'll sleep with me?"

Sam ignored the last comment, and instead put down his bag, hissing to Dean, "Stay here, and shut up."

This part of the building was dark, lit softly by lamps along the hallway, and a reading lamp on the nurse's desk. As Sam approached the desk, his shadow loomed over the young man staffing the nurses' station. "Hi," Sam began.

"Gah!" The young man jumped.

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Sam smiled apologetically.

"Oh, no. It's okay, sorry. I guess I was just dozing off. What can I help you with?"

"Um, our --" Sam motioned back at Dean, who smiled and waved, "sister was brought in today, she was involved in a shooting accident. We were out of touch all day and only just heard about it when we got back to base, can you tell us what room she's in?"

"The shooting victim? Sarah Jacobson? She's in room 143, but I have to tell you, it's a restricted area. You might have to come back tomorrow to talk to the doctors."

"Oh, okay." Sam was at his most innocent. "Well, do you think they'd mind if we just had a look at the room, so we know where we're going tomorrow?"

"No, go ahead."

Sam nodded imperceptibly at Dean as he went back and picked up the bag from the ground next to his brother.

"Hey, is there a bathroom around here?"

"Yeah, down that hallway, on the left." The nurse pointed down a corridor labeled "Rooms 100-130."

"Great, thanks." Dean headed down in that direction, while Sam smiled his thanks at the helpful young man, and headed in the opposite direction, mentally counting to 25. As he reached 23, turned a corner, and heard shots coming from the other side of the infirmary wing, followed by running footsteps and shouting.

He was a few doors down from 143 when he heard footsteps behind him. He pressed himself into a doorway for cover, but stepped out again when he saw that it was just Dean. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How'd it go?"

"Fine, said I saw the dude run out the back door, no more questions."

"Great. Okay, the room's right down there. You were right, there's one guard inside the room, but we should be able to knock him out without a fuss." Sam rummaged through the bag, pulling out the book containing exorcisms and a container of salt. "I'll get his attention."

The brothers crept forward until they were next to the door of room 143. "Ready?" Mouthed Sam. Dean nodded.

Sam straightened to his full height, and knocked on the door to get the guard's attention. When he opened the door Sam used the oldest trick in the book to lure him out. "Hey, could you point me in the direction of the nearest bathroom, I hate to bother you, but all these corridors look alike to me." He smiled ingratiatingly. The guard nodded, and stepped out in the hall to explain things to the poor imbecile when Dean gave him a good hard knock to the back of his head with the butt of his pistol. The brothers carefully lowered him to the ground, and pulled him into one of the empty rooms they had just passed.

They stepped quietly into the room, Dean's gun drawn, Sam's arms filled with book and salt. Sam quickly approached the bed and poured a circle of salt around it, marveling at how still the possessed young woman appeared. "Dean, are we sure about this?"

"You saw her eyes, what else could it be?" Dean aimed his gun at the young women, his other hand ready to uncork a bottle of Holy Water in case she should wake up.

"Yeah." Sam took a deep breath, and opening the book began to read the exorcism.

Just then a bright white light filled the room and suddenly Sam and Dean found themselves surrounded by armed men and women. "Drop the weapons, now! On your knees, hands on your heads!" A voice demanded. Temporarily blinded by the brilliant flash, Dean and Sam were helpless. They set their weapons on the floor, and kneeling put their hands on their heads as ordered.

"Hey, boys! Nice to see you again!" Said Jack O'Neill.


	5. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

"Don't bother protesting about a misunderstanding here," O'Neill jumped on the words which were about to leave Dean's open mouth. "We know exactly who you are and what you were doing, so we don't even have to go through those tedious questions. Actually, for once we _have_ all the answers!" He grinned, and looked positively surprised by this fact.

The blonde women the boys had seen before stepped forward, a P90 held in her hands. O'Neill had his hanging from a vest clip, but hers was loose, and in Dean's eyes, uncomfortably accessible. "I'm Major Carter, and you two are in a rather serious position. In fact, the only reason we're having this conversation is that you have something to offer us."

"You mean besides good looks and charm?" Dean snarked.

"Yes." Carter replied.

O'Neill spoke again. "Either we lock you up for the rest of your life for any number of crimes, or you guys get to take Sarai on a field trip!"

"You're out of your freakin' mind!" Dean responded incredulously. "Why in hell would we do that?"

"Careful now, we aren't the ones hunting down an 'evil spirit' on a military base in the middle of the night."

"It's only 8 o'clock, that's not the middle of the night." Dean protested under his breath.

"He's got a point, Dean." Sam muttered.

"Like hell he does!" Dean brushed off his brother's comment and addressed O'Neill and Carter. "How do you now we won't just kill her and dump her body in a field somewhere, assuming you're actually serious about this whole thing!"

Carter shrugged, unperturbed by his outburst. "We can find you if we need to, and if you do anything to her, we'll need to."

O'Neill grimaced. "Okay, my knees are hurting just looking at you two. C'mon, stand up."

The brothers looked at each other and slowly stood up. "Um, can we put our hands down now?" Sam asked.

Carter had the guards standing behind them pat them down for weapons, and then allowed them to stand at ease. "Thank you so much." Dean couldn't help himself. Stressful situations always made him snappy and rude…..more rude than usual, that is.

Sam took the chance to speak before his brother earned both of them a beat down. "Why do you want us to take her with us in the first place? Why do any of this?"

"Carter, can you please explain to these two gentlemen why it's in their best interest to do exactly as we say?" O'Neill was getting impatient. Much as he loved dealing with young people and their attitudes, this lovely conversation was going on far too long for his liking….not to mention he was missing a new Simpson's episode. Sure it was being taped, but that just wasn't the same!

"With pleasure, Sir. Sam, Dean, that young woman on the bed in front of you is at the center of a top secret military project. Only the President and a few of his cabinet members even know of its existence." They stared back blankly. "It's a matter of National Security."

Sam paled. He could hear the capital letters on the final two words, and knew precisely what they entailed. Dean looked slightly puzzled. "National Security? What does _she_ have to do with—" Sam pulled his brother aside. "Dude, if it's a matter of "National Security" they can do anything they want to us, and we'll never even see a lawyer, let alone the inside of a courtroom!"

Dean licked his lips, trying to think. "I know Sammy, but we can't take her with us! If she's a demon she'll kill us and anyone else she can find! If she's not, she'll probably _get_ us killed along with herself!"

The man with glasses who the brothers had seen at the gas station stepped forward now, looking decidedly less average in military fatigues. "I'm guessing from that book you guys brought you were under the impression that Sarai was possessed." He exchanged an amused glance with his teammates before going on. "I assure you, Sarai is not about to start projectile vomiting or spinning her head around."

In the back of the room, Teal'c moved his head imperceptibly, and the guard next to him heard him mutter, "_The Exorcist"_ under his breath. Daniel somehow knew what he said, as he shot over his shoulder, "Yes, Teal'c, I have seen that one….it was for a class…"

He turned his attention once more to the brothers in front of him. "We're very grateful for your concern about Sarai, which is why we're offering you this opportunity instead of just locking you up. All you have to do is let this young woman tag along with you on your "road trip" for 30 days, at the end of which you can drop her off here at the base, and be on your merry way. We'll leave you alone, and hopefully you'll leave us alone. Or, you can spend the rest of your life in a cell. It's your choice."

"We won't be a burden, Dean Winchester." The young woman in the bed finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, but strong. "We really want to go with you."

"Okay, that's it!" Dean hissed to Sam. "Talking like that is not normal!" He quickly stepped forward, towards the bed, raising his hands from his sides prepared to do who-knows-what, when a blue arc of electricity came from somewhere in the room and Dean collapsed, twitching as the electric current coursed through his body.

"Stand down!" O'Neill ordered. "Who fired that?"

A young airman stepped forward, face impassive but red. "Sir."

"After this is done, report to General Hammond for disciplinary action and reassignment."

"Sir, yes, Sir." He stepped back.

Sam Winchester had rushed to his brother's side with a cry, ignoring the conversation above him. "Dean, Dean wake up!" He glared at Carter and O'Neill. "What did you do to him?" He demanded.

"Relax, he'll be okay. I've been zatted hundreds of times, and look at me, perfectly fine."

"He's just stunned." Carter reassured him.

"I'm sorry." Sarai shifted uncomfortably in her bed, her face downcast. "We didn't…I mean, I didn't think, and I didn't mean to make him nervous…." She looked at Sam sorrowfully.

"She's not from around here. We wanted to give her a chance to experience more of American culture, which is why she'll be coming along with you and your brother." Daniel stepped in and explained.

Carter continued. "We're sorry that Dean got shot, but now you know we're not joking around. Sam, I realize you can't make this decision right away, so we'll give you and Dean 48 hours to make up your minds." She motioned for the airmen to step forward and grab the brothers. "For now you'll be kept in a holding cell, and tomorrow we'll come by to discuss this further. Goodnight."

"Get 'em outta here." O'Neill ordered.

"Wait, you can't—" Sam stood up and protested, but he was grabbed by a pair of airmen and manhandled out the door and down the hall. Two others lifted Dean and carried him out after.

Sarai leaned back in her bed. "I should've stayed quiet, R'kenoth was right. I'm very sorry, O'Neill, that you had to go to all this trouble about me."

"Don't worry about it, I like making trouble. And these boys have run amuck long enough without someone stepping in. It'll be a good experience for them."

Carter stared at him for a moment. "Sir, I still have doubts about this. I mean, these guys aren't exactly the most stable people we've met…"

"Carter, you have to be a little unstable to deal with a Tok'ra. And you should know!"

She smiled a little at that. "Yes, sir."

Daniel looked around at the supplies the Winchester brothers had dropped. "This book looks very interesting. Jack, can I take a look at it for the 48 hours they're thinking?"

"Sure, knock yourself out. Just don't summon anything you can't control, huh?"

"Very funny. You should probably get somebody in here to clean up that salt, too."

"Carter?"

"On it."

"O'Neill?" The Tok'ra said hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for giving Sarai this chance to prove herself. Many of the Tok'ra believe someone older should have been chosen for this mission, and it is to your credit that you have not sent us back already."

Slightly unnerved that R'kenoth had taken control without him noticing, O'Neill gathered his wits enough to respond. "Oh, yeah, don't mention it. And let's face it, sometimes I really like pissing those guys off, ya know?"

R'kenoth smiled. "Yes, O'Neill, I believe I do."


	6. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

"…_we'll take her." _

Sam was led by more guards to a conference room, and was told to sit. Obeying, he was pleasantly surprised to find the chairs were much more comfortable than the bed he'd slept on the night before. A moment later Dean was led in, bags under his eyes, but smiling to see his little brother. "Sammy! Sorry I couldn't be there to hold your hand last night, I know you're afraid of the dark, but really man, you've got to learn to let go sometime."

"It's Sam, not Sammy. And you look like crap."

"Aw, you noticed!"

"Well, as heartwarming as this banter is, I've got things to do and places to be, as I'm certain you boys do as well." O'Neill went to the head of the boardroom and put both hands flat on the table top, leaning over it slightly. "Since both of you declined our retirement plan, I'd like to introduce you to your new traveling buddy." He gestured with one hand, and from the doorway at the far end of the room came Major Carter escorting Sarai. "Boys, this is Sarai Rekenoth. Sarai, these two are Sam and Dean Winchester."

Dean smiled at her. "I'm Dean, he's Sam. You can tell which one's which because I'm the better looking one with the cooler name."

Sarai smiled back, unperturbed by Dean's attempt at flirtation. "You are also the shorter one, or so I observed yesterday."

Dean's grin vanished, but Sam bit back a laugh. "He's the older one too, and if that's not a beautiful example of irony than I don't know what is."

"Cute." Dean grimaced at his brother.

"I hope we can expect some maturity out of you two while you're with Sarai?" Major Carter asked skeptically.

"Hey lady, you put this on us." Dean replied swiftly.

Daniel Jackson had entered the room while the boys were speaking to Sarai, and now approached the table, taking a seat and tossing a folder onto the table in front of him. "Okay, here's the deal. Sarai is part of an intercultural exchange program. This is the first time she's been to the United States, and she wanted to get the most authentic experience she could. So, you two have been chosen as the lucky guys who get to tour around the States with her for a month. We'll provide money for her share of the food and lodging costs, and maybe a little extra at the end if everything works out."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "If you would've mentioned the money thing from the start, we could've avoided a whole lotta trouble!" Dean commented.

With a brief smile that was more like a pained smirk, Daniel continued. "We don't care where you take her, as long as it's nowhere dangerous. Trust her judgment of situations she's uncomfortable with, but I don't think you'll have any problems. She's a legal adult both here and in her home country, and we've got papers for her in case you run into official trouble. Right, I think that's it for me. Sam have you got anything to add?"

Sam Winchester looked confused. "What?"

"Sorry, I meant Major Carter." Daniel apologized. "I'm used to calling her Sam…her first name is Samantha…" He explained.

Sam Carter grinned at the mix-up. "We decided it would be too confusing with two Sams, so I've asked these guys to call me Major Carter for the duration."

"Ah." Dean gave his 'yes, I understand smile' underneath puzzled brows, and nodded. Sam followed suit.

"And no, Daniel, I think you've just about covered everything. Sam, Dean, any questions?"

"You mean besides 'why us?'" Sam asked.

"Actually, yeah, I do have a couple." Dean leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Where exactly is Sarai from? Also, why was she listed as Sarah Jacobson on the infirmary register?"

Daniel and Major Carter exchanged glances. "She's from a small Eastern European country, you've probably never heard of. And as for the name…" Carter paused a moment. "Well, to be honest, if we'd of used her real name we would've gotten questions, just like you're asking." She shrugged. "Jacob's my dad's name."

Sam looked askance at his brother. Those were pretty sketchy answers, and didn't really give them any new information. But Dean let it slide and instead addressed O'Neill. "Why did you trust us at the gas station? You left your friend alone and injured with two strange men."

O'Neill shrugged. "My horoscope said it was good day to trust random strangers."

Sam was beginning to get tired of the runaround. "Okay, so you aren't going to tell us all about Sarai. Fine. What do we do now? When are we taking this little excursion?"

Major Carter looked at her watch. "Well, I'd say you will be leaving in about 18 hours."

The Winchesters stared at her. "What? You mean, _now?_" "Okay, now that's just not funny."

"You'll both be given proper rooms tonight, and we've brought your car in so you can get a change of clothes and whatever else you need out of it. For the rest of today you are free to talk to Sarai, get to know her a little better, and then tomorrow you can be on your way. How's 0800 sound for a time of departure?"

"Sounds fantastic, thank you!" Dean gave a wide, false grin. Major Carter ignored the exclamation.

Sarai came over and sat down in a chair next to the brothers, nervously straightening the bottom of her shirt as she did. "So, what do you do for employment?" She asked, trying to initiate a conversation.

Sam froze. "Uh…"

"We're currently between jobs." Dean filled in smoothly. "Our dad died a few months ago, and we've been on a road trip to get away from things for awhile."

_Good call, Dean. These guys have all our files, they'd know if we lied about working someplace._ "Before that I was at college, pre-law." Sam added. "How about you?"

Sarai went quiet for a minute, her eyes unfocusing. "I worked as a seamstress growing up, and lately have been studying the customs and societies of different groups of people." She finally said.

"So, like, sociology, or anthropology?" Sam probed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Dean had observed her odd behavior as well.

"Yes, anthropology. That is what I am studying." Sarai stated firmly.

"Well! We'll leave you kids to get acquainted." Jack O'Neill said with a grin. "Sorry we don't have donuts…I think Teal'c ate them all." O'Neill patted the large black man standing unnoticed behind the brothers as he left the room, followed shortly by Daniel and Major Carter. Teal'c and two airmen remained, as though they were part of the furnishings of the room, quietly imposing furnishings who looked as though they could take even Sam down with just one hand.

"Right. Who's ready for a game of 20 questions?" Dean said brightly through gritted teeth.

Later the brothers remarked that it was the strangest game of 20 questions ever. In fact, it was more like a game of 500 questions and 20 answers. Yes, Sarai was interested in seeing the largest ball of twine, and no, she did not prefer ice cream to cake. Neither Sam nor Dean was married, they came from Kansas originally, and Sam would rather watch baseball than hockey. Everything else they talked about was answered by a short pause and then a non-answer by Sarai, or else no pause and a smooth lie by Dean or Sam.

As the brothers prepared for bed that night, they talked about their options for the coming month.

"You think we should let Ellen know we're not gonna be taking jobs for the next 30 days?"

"And what, explain to her that we got blackmailed into dragging some wacko-girl's skinny ass around America?"

"Or we could tell her we just decided to take a break?" Sam paused. "Okay, sorry, no. Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Good plan. G'night Sam."


	7. Chapter 5

In thanks to those who read and review, here's another chapter for y'all!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter Five: **

"So far we've seen five museums, two amusement parks, far too many roadside fast food joints for my cholesterol to ever recover, not to mention all the 'weird, wacky, and wonderful' tourist traps!" Dean frowned at his brother in the passenger seat, momentarily taking his eyes off the road.

"Dude, drive." Sam refocused Dean's attention on the highway with a gesture. "We've all taken turns picking things to see, and besides, one of those museums was all about cars! Not to mention those amusement parks were your idea too." _I bet you were just hoping to find some more psycho clowns for us to kill_. Sam added mentally. He could tell his brother was getting restless with this whole "normal vacation" thing.

"What would you prefer, Dean?" Said a female voice from the back seat.

"I would _prefer_-"

Sam cut him off. "I know, let's go check out Roswell!"

"Aw, Sammy! I thought you outgrew that phase!"

"I'm not saying I believe in that crap, Dean, I just think it'd be interesting to see. We've never been there, after all, and who knows, maybe we'll learn something!"

"What is Roswell?" Asked Sarai curiously. From the tone of the argument she gathered they had talked about this before. After two weeks of traveling with the brothers, she had come to realize that much of their interaction revolved around previous shared experiences and inside jokes. Despite the fact that she often had no idea of what they were talking about, Sarai (and R'kenoth) did not feel like an unwanted outsider, instead she felt that her purpose for being on Earth was being fulfilled, as she observed and made mental notes about human behavior, in addition to observing the culture of the society.

"It's a place where supposedly aliens crash-landed to Earth in the 1950s, which was then covered up by the government. There's a museum there that talks about all kinds of alien lore and has exhibits about the different stories." Sam explained.

"Yeah, and in third grade Sammy swore he saw an alien and spent nearly two whole months trying to talk Dad into letting us go do 'research' at Roswell." Dean threw a grin at his younger brother. "Admit it; you just wanted to get the t-shirt."

"Dean, for the last time, it's SAM. And you were interested too; you just wouldn't go against Dad."

"Hey, I'm not the one who said he met E.T." Dean tried to remember why Sam thought he saw an alien. It'd been awhile since he'd thought about the time Sammy went all X-Files on him, looking for proof of aliens.

"It was just a dream I had…" Sam muttered, embarrassed to recall the incident…

**_Nearly Fifteen Years Ago, the Bedroom of a Shabby Apartment:_**

"Dean!" The panicked scream woke the twelve year old from a dream about riding a motorbike at tope speed down a deserted highway. If it had been anyone else, dean would've yelled at them to shut up and go back to sleep in order to try and recapture the feeling of the landscape rushing past him in a blur. But it was his little brother who called, and Dean couldn't ignore his fearful cry.

"Sammy? What is it, are you okay?" Instantly wide awake, Dean grabbed the pistol his Dad had ordered him to keep by his bed and quickly ran to Sam's side of the room. Sam sat up in his bed, his covers pulled tight around him and eyes wide with fright. The eight year old insisted that he was old enough to sleep in a separate bed, but when Dad went on hunting trips, Dean often awoke to find his brother curled up next to hum under the covers.

Tonight, Sam had gone to bed on time, which Dean attributed to the fact that he was worn out from the training exercises they'd gone through earlier that day. Their Dad liked to make sure they were in shape to take care of anything supernatural that came after them when he was away, and he'd tested them thoroughly that afternoon before heading to a neighboring town to take care of a pesky haunting. He'd promised to be back in the morning. At any rate, Sam's outburst was all the more startling because usually training days wore both of them out to the point where they could sleep through just about anything.

"Dean, it was right there!" Sam pointed to an empty corner of the room, his hand shaking slightly.

"Sammy, what is it, a ghost?" Dean crouched near his brother's bed, his young hunter's senses straining to detect the spirit or ghost which had disturbed his brother.

"No! It wasn't a ghost!" Sam knew ghosts, and they were kinda scary to look at, but Dean or his Dad always took care of them, so he knew they wouldn't hurt him.

"Good, 'cause I don't think this thing's loaded with rock salt." Dean admitted his relief, and gestured with the pistol in his hand. "Sammy, what did you see? Do we need to call Dad?"

"It was an alien, Dean! With big black eyes, and it was gray and skinny, and had a big head, and-"

Dean stared directly at his brother for a long moment before speaking. "Are you _kidding_ me?? He shouted. "You had a nightmare about an _alien?_ You wake up screaming from a dream about an alien…" He shook his head in disbelief. "And here I was almost worried for a minute!" He stormed over to his own bed and set down the pistol on the bedside table. "Go to sleep, Sam." Following his own advice, Dean pulled the covers up to his chin, and rolled over to face the wall. "And next time you wake me up from an awesome dream, there sure as _hell_ oughtta be a ghoul standing over you!"

Sam shivered, and pulled the blanket around him tighter, looking longingly at his brother's form under the covers on the next bed. "Dean, I was awake when I saw the alien, it wasn't a dream!" He said softly. And it was true. He'd been woken up by a bright flash of light, and when he opened his eyes he saw a small gray form standing in the shadowed corner. At first he'd thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but when he reopened his eyes after blinking a few times, it was still there. Petrified, young Sam hadn't even been able to yell as the thing took a step closer. Then a door slammed shut somewhere else in the apartment building, the thin walls allowing the sound to carry. It caught the attention of the alien, and the bright light reappeared an instant later, which is when Sam yelled out to Dean.

Sam ducked under the covers and curled up in a tight ball, trying to forget the terrifying events by thinking of happy memories, anything to get rid of the feeling of being completely helpless and alone. He huddled there for a moment, then made up his mind. He didn't care of Dean said he was too old for cuddling; Sam was not going to stay in his bed by himself tonight. He quickly clambered into Dean's bed, and wrapped himself in the blanket, curling against his brother's backside. Dean only grunted sleepily and moved over to give Sam room on the twin bed. "Go to sleep…" He mumbled. "It wasn't a dream." Sammy insisted, although he realized Dean was asleep already. "I'll prove it to you."

And Sam did his best. Over the next few weeks, he did all the research he could at the elementary school library, and even went to the public library with his dad and Dean once, because they were researching a hunt anyway. All he could find were unconfirmed theories, reports of flying saucer sightings, and wild stories about government cover-ups. Dean mocked him mercilessly, and his Dad firmly told him that it had just been a dream, after all there'd been a ring of salt around the room and all the usual protections against supernatural beings, and aliens didn't exist. Furthermore, Dean insisted that if there had actually been anything in the room with them, he would've woken up before Sam's shout.

The eight-year old had persisted in his search for answers for several weeks, but with no further visitations and a move to a new town and a new school. Sammy gradually forgot to worry about it, and by the time he reached his ninth birthday, he'd chalked it up to a simple childhood nightmare. He had new nightmares to worry about when he got his first gun after telling his dad that he thought something lived in his closet, and he turned his attention to hunting with his dad and brother.

_**Present Day, A Highway Somewhere near New Mexico:**_

"Ha ha! That's right, you had that nightmare! I'd nearly forgotten about that." Dean chuckled to himself as he recalled the circumstances surrounding Sam's interest in extraterrestrial beings. "At least you didn't get abducted by them, like that guy at the college!" He teased.

"Dude, I was eight. And you know that guy didn't actually get abducted for real…" Sam trailed off.

"What kind of evidence does this museum have?" Sarai asked intently. The brothers were too busy bickering to notice the sudden sharpness in her tone, or that she had leaned forward in her seat.

"Just random pieces of junk they claim came from outer space." Dean dismissed the so-called proof out of hand. "But I agree: it'd be worth seeing just so Sam can shut up about how he's never been there."

"Fine." Sam decided not to argue the justification, since he was getting what he wanted. "I still say it'll be interesting."

Dean put air quotes around the word 'interesting.' "That's what you said about the world's largest ball of twine. If it's as interesting as that, I'm gonna keel over from all the excitement."

"I thought the ball of twine was fascinating." Sarai put in. R'Kenoth silently agreed. _//It aroused in me a feeling of great wonderment. Wonderment as to why anyone would waste that much of their lifetime wrapping string into a large spherical shape.// _"But, I must admit to being intensely curious about Roswell and its alien museum. How long will it take for us to get there?" _Oh hush. It was a testament to mankind's perseverance, _Sarai defended her position. If R'kenoth had been in control, she would've rolled her eyes.

"With Dean driving? Give it a day." Sam smirked at his brother's disregard for such unimportant things as speed limits and traffic laws.

Dean's only response was to crank up the music; today's heavy metal band of choice was AC/DC.

_R'kenoth?_ Sarai asked seriously, ignoring the music for the time being. Although it was entirely different from anything she had heard before, but to her surprise she was growing to like it._ Do you think they will actually find any evidence of the goa'uld or extraterrestrial beings at this museum//No, Sarai, I believe that if there were any truth to those stories, the government would've been smart enough to make sure all the evidence was removed from the sight.// But there's always the chance they missed something, right//Why, you sound almost anxious for them to discover something, Sarai. //If they did, it'd mean we wouldn't have to pretend to be human, and that'd make things easier. //It would also make things more dangerous.// _

Sarai had to admit R'kenoth had a point. The way the Winchesters had behaved back at the military base had frightened her, especially since Daniel had told her that they sincerely believed that she was possessed by a great evil and were prepared to do a great violence in order to get rid of that evil. _//I am curious to see what the Taur'i think aliens look like, though. I expect this stop to be even more exciting than "The Thing" was!// _One of the roadside attractions which had thrilled R'kenoth, much to Sarai's amusement, was a cheap tourist trap in Arizona that advertised the mysterious body of an unknown creature found in the desert. A dollar paid for a viewing, in addition to getting to see the rest of the eclectic collection of old cars and other knick-knacks. R'kenoth was very interested in American history and legends, and had very much enjoyed the whole experience.

Although he wouldn't admit it, Dean had liked The Thing as well, since it gave him ample opportunity to tease Sam. Also, unbeknownst to Sarai or R'kenoth, Sam and Dean had a bet going as to whether they would find one single supernatural thing in any of the roadside tourist traps, and Dean had put most of his hope on The Thing. Sam, of course, insisted that it was made out of paper mache. Dean maintained that it was a werewolf and cub, mummified by the desert. Dean clung to his five dollars, insisting that they weren't done with the trip yet, but Sam only laughed and told Dean to hand it over.


	8. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

After a brief stop to grab a greasy burger and fries for each, the Winchesters and their new friend found themselves entering a small town within one hundred miles of their goal. For the last several hundred miles they had been discussing the stories about Roswell, and giving Sarai a crash course in alien sightings and legends in the United States as a whole, Dean, of course, interjecting skepticism into every other sentence. Sam preferred to take a more academic approach, and was mostly interested in the different types of evidence people had collected in support of their theories. Sam had just finished explaining what a weather balloon was to Sarai when he caught sight of a sign for lodging.

"Hey Dean, it's nearly 8. What do you say we find a hotel and call it a night? We can easily make it the rest of the way tomorrow morning."

Dean glanced at his brother. "You serious? We've got plenty of gas, we could drive all night."

Sam tried to communicate through facial expressions that he wanted to talk to Dean without Sarai hearing, and that it might be nice for her to have a "normal" American experience in a hotel that wasn't chosen because it happened to be off the road near a gas station, which might actually have a carpet not stained by bodily fluids!

"Dude, you constipated or something?" Dean smirked at Sam's pained expression. "You look like you've got indigestion. Just remember: if you're gonna hurl, do it out the window, and not all over my baby."

Sarai smiled at his remark. The Taur'i custom of showing affection for their vehicles appealed to her, and she fully understood Dean's nickname for his car. R'kenoth was amused by the habit, but could not relate. In her experience, vehicles were changed too often to form any sentimental attachment, not to mention the sheer absurdity of anthropomorphizing mechanical forms of transportation. _I see what you're saying, after all it'd be pretty hard to picture the people of my home world naming our wagons, or calling a farm cart "baby."_ She nearly laughed out loud at the thought. Sarai had nearly died of a terminal illness before she was discovered by travelers through the chaapa'i brought her to the Tok'ra. Her family had accepted her death as inevitable, did not know that when they placed her on the altar to the gods she would be rescued and through bonding with a Tok'ra symbiote be healed of the disease. She could not return to her home planet, but she had passed through the grieving stage and accepted her loss, focusing instead on the wealth of opportunities now open to her. It no longer hurt to speak of her homeland, and even though she no longer had any place in that world, she still held fond memories of her youth there.

Lost in her memories, she missed the next part of the boys' conversation, but evidently Dean had conceded to his brother's wishes, for it was not long afterwards that the sleek Impala pulled into the parking lot of a multi-story hotel with a bright sign reading "Holiday Inn" visible for miles around. After parking, Dean just sat for a moment, looking up at the tall building in contemplative silence.

"Well?" Asked Sam, impatient.

"This is a moment to remember, Sam. Hunter's staying at a freaking _Holiday Inn_. Here's your normal, little brother."

"I have seen these building before in the towns we've traveled through, why do you not stay in them ordinarily?"

Dean jumped a little. He'd actually forgotten that the girl was back there. He quickly tried to disguise his lapse in vigilance by getting out of the car and going to the trunk to grab their bags.

Sam had noticed, judging by the amused look on his face, but he didn't say anything about it, choosing instead to answer Sarai's question. "Usually we're short on cash, or else there isn't any good hotel around when we need to stop." With that brief explanation, he got out and went to the back of the Impala to grab a bag from his brother.

Sarai disembarked as well, carrying her pack with her. She'd insisted on sitting with it in the backseat from the first day of the trip. Dean had asked to see the contents, and R'kenoth replied that if she was allowed to look through their possessions, she would allow her own belongings to be searched. Dean had decided that he'd just been kidding, and let the matter slide.

As soon as they had checked in, using their by-now-usual cover story of siblings taking a road-trip together, Dean dropped his bag on a bed, and made a beeline for the bathroom, shouting "they have a hot tub!" to his brother.

"See! I told you we should've done this sooner!" Sam dug through his own bag, looking for something to use in lieu of swim trunks. Boxers would have to do.

"I am anxious to try the…American version of a hot spring pool." Sarai said. "I have experienced steam bathing and similar forms, but this "hot tub" sounds intriguing." And she began removing her shirt.

"Hey, whoa, hang on." Sam stuttered, blushing.

Dean came out of the bathroom, wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. "What's going on-" Catching sight of Sarai removing her shirt, he quickly turned around to face the opposite direction. "As much as I love the show, Sarai you can't just strip like that without some warning!"

//_Oh dear.//_ R'kenoth sighed. //_I should have warned you about the taur'i nudity taboo that operates here in the United States.// What do you mean?_ Sarai was slightly hurt, and confused. Sam began talking to her before R'kenoth could finish her thought.

"Um, Sarai, in this country…er…"

"We only get naked around people we're close to, and then only in certain circumstances." Dean explained.

"I was simply going to change clothing for something suitable to wear in a hot tub." Sarai tried to explain. "I do not understand why that is unacceptable."

"It has to do with cultural norms and values…" Sam began with a sense of hopelessness in making her understand something that he had honestly never really thought about much.

"Americans value their privacy," Dean stated, then thinking of some of the people he had met in his travels, amended his thought. "Well, most of them do anyway. And that means not changing clothes in front of people they don't know very well." He fought the temptation to look over his shoulder. "Hey, you dressed yet? This is really awkward."

"Nearly so." Sarai quickly finished changing into her bathing suit. _R'kenoth, why have I not learned of this before? I have lived with these two men for nearly fifteen of this planet's days, and it has never been a problem//Well, there has never been an opportunity to swim before this, on the trip, has there?// I do not understand why that should make a difference. Dean said nothing about swimming in his explanation. //Before all the changing of clothes occurred at bedtime or in the morning, when it was accomplished in the bathroom for which there was a need anyway. It was simply a matter of time, but I am sorry I did not prepare you for it earlier.// _During her conversation with R'kenoth, Sam had gone to the bathroom to quickly put on his own swim wear, and then the three of them headed to the Pool Room.

The awkward silence the three traveled in was not nearly as uncomfortable to Sarai as she was listening to R'kenoth tell about the different cultural values the Tok'ra had encountered. Some hosts had ritual taboos similar to the nudity taboo, but others came from cultures where it was a commonly accepted practice to go without clothing at all. Most hosts accepted the compromise put forth by the Tok'ra council, that all Tok'ra wear a similar style of dress, with some small variation according to personality and preference.

Beside the door of the Pool stood two vending machines which caught Sarai's attention. Over the past two weeks, she had become very familiar with the sight, and had grown to love the sugary and salty snacks which came out of them. Sam paused with her. "Listen, I'm sorry about back there. Are you upset with us?"

Sarai, turned, surprised that he would think so. "Oh, no, it was simply a mistranslation, as it were." She gave him a smile and then turned back to the snack machine. "Oooh look. They have Snickers bars!" Sarai had become addicted to Snickers, and Sam had had to limit her to one per day on their trip, or she would have eaten them constantly. R'kenoth had her metaphorical hands full dealing with the effect of the processed corn syrup and chocolate on Sarai's body, but had to admit that it was a tasty invention.

Dean, having no interest in either Sam's apology or Sarai's addiction, had already entered the Pool Room. Stripping of his t-shirt, he was about to slip into the steamy and bubbling hot tub, when he realized there was someone sitting in the chair he had thrown his stuff next to. "Hey!" He said in greeting, not at all put out to be surprised by this vision.

The woman was willowy and tan, with reddish blonde hair and a sweet smile. "Hey. You just check in?"

"Yeah." Dean's desire for the welcome heat of the tub bowed out in response to his new desire to get to know this woman better. "Couldn't resist the siren song of a soothing hot soak, if you know what I mean."

The woman stood up, and came over to introduce herself. "Rachel Grey, I've been staying here while my sister has business in town."

_Sister!_ Dean grinned. _Sammy, this may be your lucky day! It sure as hell is mine!_ "Dean Jacobson," he said, using the last name they were registered under, after all it never hurt to be cautious. "What kind of business does your sister do?"

"She's a Real Estate Agent, still trying to get on her feet." She came closer, leaning in conspiratorially. "I'm supposedly along for moral support, but really I just wanted to get out of the house on someone else's tab."

"I know how that goes. How long are you staying here?"

"Here as in the pool, or here as in the hotel?" The look she gave Dean was far too direct for even Sam to misinterpret, but before Dean could do more than smirk, he felt a light hand on his bicep.

"Dean, I need to borrow a dollar. I know I'm paying for this hotel but I do not have any currency on me." Sarai was considered tall on her world, but she only came up to Dean's chin, and she kept her hand on his arm to get his attention.

The woman Dean had been talking to stepped back, the smile she had worn when Sarai first approached turning into an unfriendly stare. "Yes, I suppose you do know about living on someone else's tab." She said coldly.

Dean brushed off Sarai's hand, ignoring her. "Whatever you're thinking, it's not like that! She's my sister!"

The woman picked up her towel from the chair she had been sitting on before, and gave Dean a hard look. "Of course she is." Without another word, or even a glance at Dean, she stalked out of the room, towel wrapped around her waist.

_I can't believe it!!_ Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _What the hell just happened?_ "Sarai! What is the matter with you? I was in the middle of a conversation!" He glared at her, and grabbed her shoulders. "What was so important that you just couldn't wait to tell me, thus ruining the one chance I've had in weeks to actually relax and enjoy myself!"

Sam came in just in time to stop Dean from shaking the confused girl, calmly taking her aside to explain why Dean was so mad at her. He'd noticed the irritated, though beautiful, woman leaving the pool, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why when he entered the room and saw Dean and Sarai squaring off.

Dean went to the hot tub to soak and sulk, but despite is bad mood, found himself relaxing within moments. _Probably just as well that chick left, if she's so unstable as to get put off by _Sarai, _I'm probably well out of it…_

Sam managed to convince Sarai to leave the Snickers 'till later, and they joined Dean in the hot tub. He hadn't quite let go of his anger with her yet, for interrupting him when he was in the midst of a promising flirtation, but Dean couldn't help but notice that the newest addition to the Winchester road show had a great body, showed off by a one piece bathing suit that did nothing to hide her subtle curves. _Damn it! Maybe I should've gone with that chick after all, this is a bad road to be going down…_He forced himself to think about what his brother was saying, deliberately avoiding looking at Sarai.

Listening to Sam drone on about some road trip his college friends had taken, pretty soon Dean could feel himself dropping off to sleep. Although they hadn't had a dangerous job in about a month, such was the abuse they put their bodies through on a regular basis, that in periods of health, Dean's body soaked up all the sleep it could for future stamina. Not too mention Dean had decided that tomorrow night he wasn't going to get much sleep if he had his way. Once they reached Roswell, surely Sam and Sarai could amuse themselves without him for one night. It'd been far too long since he'd really _enjoyed_ a woman's company….

"Hey, man. I think I'm gonna take a shower and turn in."

"Are you sure?" Sam gave his full attention to his brother, brows creased in concern.

"Dude, I'm fine. But I plan on getting an early start tomorrow, so you better not stay up too late." Dean climbed out of the hot tub and went to grab his things. "Sarai, unless you want to see Sam the Prune, I'd advise not staying in too much longer."

"Prune?" Sarai replied with mild amusement. From TV, she had learned the colloquial meaning of the phrase, but it still seemed very odd to her.

"Well, I was going to say "Prude," but let's face it: that's Sam's normal state." And he ducked out of the room before his younger brother could find something to throw at him.

Sarai mused to herself about the fascinating idioms of American speech, ignoring R'kenoth's laugh at the immaturity of the young taur'i. "Sam, where did the word "prude" come from?" She asked. "I understand the cultural application; Dean was insulting you by implying your sexual values are those of an archaic nature," She began.

"Ah, um, that's not precisely what it means…" Sam protested. "And besides, I'm not like that!"

Once again R'kenoth found herself quite amused, this time by the anxiety of the young man as he blushed and tried to defend himself. Sarai shushed her, more sympathetic. "Oh, I was not trying to imply—"

"No, of course not." Sam was bright red, and shifted uncomfortably. "If you want, I can get you to a website where they explain all sorts of things about American culture and slang."

"That would be wonderful, I thank you."

Sam nodded, eyes downcast. They sat in awkward silence for a minute or two longer, and then by mutual nonverbal agreement, climbed out and headed back to their room.


	9. Chapter 7

A/N: Since this is listed as a cross-over, we finally get some crossing! This chapter deals with Stargate Sg-1, so you need to have some familiarity with the show to understand what's going on here. We're somewhere in Season 7. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seven:**

_**Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado:**_

Selmak stared silently at the general for a long moment before speaking. "May I inquire as to the reason behind this abrupt decision?" He said at last.

General George Hammond leaned back in his chair, attention focused on the understandably concerned Tok'ra seated on the other side of his desk. "Selmak, I assure you, the decision was seen as the best option available at the time. R'kenoth agreed to it, and I would think that she has proven her trustworthiness and good judgment in the many years she has worked with you. Sarai has only been her host for a year or two, and I realize this, but I am confident they will both be fine."

Selmak was quiet for another moment, and then lowered his head. A white flash of his eyes, and Jacob Carter raised his head and met his old friend's gaze with a rueful expression. "Selmak decided it'd be better if I talked this out with you, as she's the "if you don't have anything constructive to say, don't say anything at all" type."

Hammond grimaced. "That bad, hm? I can only imagine how the rest of the council will react, if this is what I get from one who actually likes us most the time."

"They'll get over it. I think you made the right call, George."

"I wish I had your confidence, Jacob. I trust O'Neill's decisions, but I would like to have had some more information on the Winchester brothers before we sent Sarai off with them. I agree there was the time constraint and we had very limited options, but all we had time for was a quick background check which revealed numerous outstanding warranties!"

"Yet, you allowed them to leave with a young Tok'ra, so I'm sure you had some reason to trust them." Jacob leaned back in the chair, trying to assuage his own doubts as well as those of the SGC's commander.

"Jack evidently did."

"As irritating as he can be, Jack usually knows what he's talking about in these sorts of things." The Tok'ra leaned forward over the desk, elbows creasing the loose papers scattered over the workspace. "You always say you've never met a better field commander, George. If Jack says we can trust them, I think you'd be hard pressed to find a more creditable source for references."

Hammond sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You're right Jacob. Thank you for the support. How's Selmak feeling?"

There was a pause. "Still upset that there wasn't time for a consultation, but now she's beginning to form a way of presenting this to the High Council that won't get us kicked off it and all diplomatic ties with Earth severed."

"Well then, sounds like you've got a day of work ahead of you. I'll leave you two to it." The commander of the SGC stood up, and shook hands with the General-turned-Tok'ra.

"We'll have something for you this evening George, so come by before you leave for the night."

"Oh, don't worry Jacob. I have a feeling this is one of those nights I won't leave the base." He smiled, but Jacob could see he was completely serious.

Jacob nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him softly, as he could see Hammond picking up the phone at his desk, back to business.

"Jack O'Neill, please report to General Hammond's office, Colonel O'Neill to General Hammond's office." Jacob smiled as he heard the announcement over the base-wide speaker system, and Selmak commented //_Your General may be over-trusting, but he is diligent in his search for information. I hope he gets the answers he seeks.//__Yes, _Jacob added, _for both our sakes._

A rap at the door. "Come in."

"You wanted to see me, sir? Has the mission been scrapped?" Jack O'Neill entered General Hammond's office and sank into the chair provided.

"No, SG-1 is still scheduled to go off-world this afternoon, but I need to speak to you on a different matter."

"Oh?" O'Neill shifted in the chair. Hopefully this wasn't about the fact that he'd taken Teal'c to the Marines' weekly poker game, where he'd then proceeded to wipe the floor with them. Strictly speaking they hadn't done anything wrong, since it was off base and during off duty hours, but the Marines had been pretty pissed, and were cranky all Monday because of it.

"It's about the Winchesters."

"Ah." Jack mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried you were going to blame the Marines' bad attitude on me."

"Now why would I do that?" An amused gleam had entered General Hammond's eye.

Crap. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Oh, no reason. None what so ever. What would you like to know about the Winchester boys?"

Making a mental note to check with Walter about Jack's doings lately, Hammond quickly focused his attention to the matter at hand, and his eyes became stern. "For one thing, I want to know why you let a young Tok'ra female go off with two boys wanted throughout the United States for bank robbery and murder, among other things! I trust your judgment, but I'd still like to know why you decided Sarai is safe with those two."

Jack sat up straighter. "Because of a Marine."

Hammond leaned back in his big brown chair. "I thought you said this had nothing to do with the Marines?"

"This was a Marine I knew many years ago, sir, in Black Ops." Jack rarely spoke of those days, and often tried to forget they had ever happened. But when he saw that last name a figure had emerged from those memories, one with a cocky grin who had introduced himself as 'John Winchester, like the rifle.' "It was a joint mission, guys from all branches of the service, the best they could find. I was part of a five man team along with a young jarhead named John Winchester."

Hammond's anxiety decreased immensely at the revelation, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his mind. He stayed quiet though, and motioned for Jack to continue with his story.

"For a Marine, he was a pretty great guy. After the mission we went for a few beers together, and got to know each other pretty well. This was before I married Sara, right before I proposed to her, actually. It was after that mission, because if it hadn't of been for John, I probably would've ate it, and I didn't want to leave Sara unsure of how I really felt…" Jack trailed off, lost in memories of a time so long removed it felt like it had belonged to someone else's life. He shook himself slightly, as if to brush away the vestiges of the past. "Anyway, last I talked to him, he'd retired, got married and settled down."

"And then you recognized the boy's names and found out they were his sons? I understand your confidence in him, but how do you know his sons are on the level? May I remind you about the warrants?"

"Sir, I knew John Winchester. His wife died not too long after their second son was born, and he went a little crazy, but he wouldn't raise his boys to be thieves and murderers. All he wanted was what's best for his boys." Jack leaned forward his words full of carefully controlled emotion. "I can't say what Dean and Sam may have done, but I trust them to take care of Sarai. We used to call him the Boy Scout; he was that serious about honor and duty. John always was about protecting innocents. If the stuff we went through couldn't turn him bad, I don't know what could."

There was a long pause. Jack stared at the decorations on the wall behind General Hammond. He hadn't even though about John in many years, his attention had been so focused on making sure the universe and his corner of it didn't get taken over or destroyed by aliens. But enough, moping around. He leaned back in the chair and rested his hands on his thighs. "There's that, Sir, and the fact that we promised them a significant amount of money when they bring Sarai back safe."

General Hammond had to hold back a smile. "Well, I'm glad to see you haven't lost your edge, Colonel."

"No sir." As lovely as this trip down memory lane had been, Jack was anxious to get his gear and his team together for their mission, and sneaked a glance at his watch. That was then, and this was now, and he'd really like to keep it that way.

Hammond caught the move. "Well, hopefully you won't need it on P4G-329. Dr. Jackson assured me that the site appears to have been abandoned by the goa'uld for several thousands of years."  
"Yes, well. Daniel's not always right about that now is he."

Hammond nodded, and Jack recognized his dismissal. He stood up and paused halfway out the door. "John was a good guy. I was sorry to hear he passed on."

The door closed, and Hammond picked up the phone, stared at it for a moment, and then set the receiver back in its cradle. He'd talk to Jacob this evening and let Selmak know what he'd learned. One thing about Jack's story nagged at him, though, and it wasn't until much later that he realized what it was. John Winchester "went a little crazy" after his wife died, Jack had said. How crazy was "a little"? Suicidal? Homicidal? And how, precisely, did Mary Winchester die?


	10. Chapter 8

Weesh! Sorry about the long delay, sometimes RL can be a pain. When we last left our heroes they were enjoying the comfort of a real, honest to goodness Holiday Inn, instead of the usual crappy roadside motels. And here's the next segment of their adventure!

* * *

**Chapter Eight:**

After a quick shower by each, Sam pulled his brother aside for a chat. "Sarai, we're going to check out the vending machines. Stay here until we get back."

"Of course." A pause. "And will you get a Snickers bar?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean grabbed Sam and pulled him out the door. "Did you see that?"

Sam, who had actually been looking in his wallet, gave Dean an annoyed look. "I don't know, but I need to talk to you about stuff, without Sarai around, if you get my drift."

"Demons, spirits, things that go bump in the night, yes okay. But did you not catch that weird little head tilt she did in there?"

Sam motioned for them to get out of the hallway, and Dean, grumbling, complied. They headed for the laundry room, and barricaded themselves in to gain some privacy.

"Okay, first off, it's been two weeks, we're halfway through this thing, and you have to make some stupid comment about "hunting" and being "normal"! She is _studying_ everything we do, I think she'll notice if we start talking about hunting ghosts!"

"Sam, I think we should be more concerned about hunting _her._ Or have you forgotten her little eye-flash thing? And now, just before we left, that pause between sentences?"

"It's called _thinking_ Dean, you might try it sometime."

Dean glared at his brother for a moment before throwing up his hands. "You know what? Fine. You can ignore the obvious as long as you want, but when that chick goes Dark side, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine." There was no reasoning with Dean sometimes, no point even trying.

"What else did you drag me in here to talk about?"

Sam rolled his eyes. And Dean would automatically blame him for initiating the conversation, despite the fact that it had been Dean who'd actually shoved him out of the hotel room. "It's this whole alien thing. Roswell is notorious for all sorts of extraterrestrial activity, and since hunters like us have never found any conclusive evidence for the existence of aliens, we've just written it off."

Dean's expression told Sam he'd better get to the point and quickly.

"So, I was just thinking. What if it _was _caused by something supernatural, like a trickster?"

"That thing we fought with Bobby was a fluke, dude. What would a demigod be doing hanging out in Roswell? Besides, for all we know the alien sightings Roswell's all about _were _caused by our janitor friend; they were mostly back in the 50s and 60s anyway, right?"

"So you admit that it might be something."

"I never said that!" Dean protested, jumping up onto a dryer to perch, since it seemed Sam meant for them to be here awhile.

"It was implied."

Dean resisted the urge to kick his brother in the stomach. "Well, we're already going there, huh? I'll make you a bet—"

"Yeah, 'cause that first one worked out so well for you."

He continued, ignoring Sam's interruption. "I bet you $20 that there will be nothing supernatural in Roswell—except whatever's in Sarai."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You're really stuck on that, aren't you? You've got yourself a bet." The brothers shook on it.

Deciding he'd made his point to Dean, Sam opened the laundry room door. "We better get back to the room before we have to explain porn to Sarai." He said with a wry grin.

"They have porn in other countries, dude. Hell, Europe practically invented it!"

"Europe's not a country, Dean." Sam corrected, knowing it would annoy his brother, but Dean had already hopped down from the dryer and was out the door.

Sam caught up with him at the snack machine.

"Dude, have you got any ones?"

"What, are you out of change?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Dean glared at him, hand open.

"Aw, don't bet if you can't bear losing!" With a shit-eating grin, Sam handed Dean two dollar bills and headed back to their room. "Don't forget the Snickers bar!"

The next morning, Sarai and R'kenoth had gotten up before dawn, as was their custom. The Winchesters had graciously decided at the beginning of the trip to play "rock-paper-scissors" to determine who would sleep on the floor in order to free up a bed for Sarai. After five days, Dean decided that it was much fairer to flip a coin. When Sam protested, Dean insisted that even with a sore back he could still beat his brother in a fair fight. Sam agreed to the coin toss idea. At the Holiday Inn, however, they had requested a cot which Sam was now sleeping on, having lost the coin toss. In order to get to the bathroom, Sarai had to maneuver around it, and unfortunately she caught the edge of her nightgown on the corner of the cot, and tripped. Somehow she managed to scrape her elbow on the way down, although she luckily missed injuring herself further, although her head narrowly missed the edge of the nearby desk.

Alarmed by the crash, Dean sat bolt upright in bed, a large knife in his hand. "Sam! What happened?" He barked, alert enough to scan the room and realize there were no obvious intruders.

A groggy Sam brushed hair out of his face and helped Sarai to her feet. "I dunno…Sarai, are you okay?" He echoed his brother's query. "What happened?"

Her face was calm, but she sounded abashed, saying "I am very sorry for waking you both." _Usually we have better night vision! _ She added to R'kenoth sharply. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, and Sam noticed the scrape on her arm.

"Ouch, that looks like it hurt."

Dean mumbled something and slid back down under the covers, turning over to go back to sleep, but Sam swung his legs over the edge of the cot and got up to turn on the lamp. In response, Dean pulled the pillow over his face.

"Let's go clean that up." Sam suggested, and led Sarai to the bathroom sink, ignoring her protestations that she needed no assistance.

Despite Dean's reluctance to wake up early, he did want to get a good start on the day's activities, so he managed to get going such that by 7:45 the brothers were closing the front doors of the Impala and pulling away from the Holiday Inn. Sarai was comfortably settled in the back seat, reading the site Sam had found for her online about American slang. Between the two of them, R'kenoth and Sarai found something amusing about every article, and soon Sam gave up asking what was so funny, and just ignored her chuckles.

By 1:30 they drove past the sign reading "Welcome to Roswell, NM," and Sarai knew they had arrived at the alien capitol of the United States. The black Chevy purred to a stop in the parking lot of the "International UFO Museum and Research Center," and the occupants disembarked.

//_Sarai I do not think that "chili dog" we had for lunch agreed with your stomach. I'm afraid that I will not be able to finish healing your elbow soon.//_ As she climbed out of the car, Sarai shrugged automatically in response to R'kenoth's words, then internally vocalized her thoughts as she realized the inadequacy of the gesture. _Do not worry about it, Reken, a scraped arm is nothing to concern yourself with. I will be much happier if you focus on aiding my digestive systems. I fear a reappearance of our lunch, otherwise, and the meal was unappetizing enough to look at the first time._

Completely oblivious to his female passenger's discontent, Dean grabbed his jacket and noticed a spot of chili on the upholstery of the car. "Sam! What did I tell you about eating in the car?"

"That was all you, dude. The chili dogs were your idea."

Dean contented himself that there was no lasting damage done to his baby, and then smirked at his brother. "Yeah, they sure were good though. You totally missed out with your wussy corn dog."

From the entrance to the building Sarai called back to them. "Please hurry up! They are only open until 4 o'clock this afternoon!"

As they made their way over to join her, Sam heard his brother mutter under his breath. "It's not even 2 yet, how long does this chick plan on staying?"


	11. Chapter 9

Sorry for the long wait! I promise I'll update more frequently from now on! (and reviews are always a nice way of reminding me!)**  
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**Chapter Nine:**

Aaron Buckley was not having a great day. That's not to say he was having a horrible, rotten, no good, very bad day, but it was nothing to write home about, so to speak. His uncle had hired him temporarily to fill in as an admissions cashier while the woman who normally held the position was out sick, and though Aaron certainly didn't dislike the money, the job bored him out of his mind. He was more of an active person, and being stuck behind a desk with only a book, a computer which he had strict orders not to touch, and the repetitive, obvious, and stupid questions from tourists to distract him, he felt like breaking into that song from Muppet Treasure Island, the one about Cabin Fever.

Just when he thought he'd have time for a quick bathroom break, a new group of tourists came in. As was his habit, he tried to guess where they were from and what other sites they'd been to, but these three weren't the usual mom, dad, and kiddies he usually saw.

The tallest of the trio stepped forward and asked for admission for himself and the two others in his party. Aaron saw that of the two men in the group, the shorter one wore an air that distinctly proclaimed he would rather be somewhere else than in this museum. Aaron felt a pang of empathy, as well as a pang of something else. He too would rather be elsewhere, preferably the same place this guy wanted to be. _Let's face it._ Aaron thought, _I'm not getting any straighter, and however much I play it down I just don't look at girls the same way I do guys…_And man, was this guy something to look at. Green eyes with lashes any girl would envy, short cut brown hair, and a face that looked like it could launch at least 1000 ships, relationships, that is.

"Here's your change, sir. We close at 4 today, but we don't kick you out until a quarter after." _And with my luck, not only is he straighter than a flag pole, he's probably the boyfriend of the pretty brunette beside him. _Although, granted, the brunette was currently ignoring him and looking around at the lobby display with interest. The tall man, who needed a hair cut, Aaron noticed, absentmindedly thanked him, and the three left the front desk area.

As he helped the next visitors, Aaron continued thinking about the previous group, trying his best to place the accent he'd heard, in part to distract from the thought of the brilliant green eyes he'd noticed on the man he hadn't talked to. It was definitely not northern or north-western, nor was it Deep South or Texan. Their clothing provided no clue, other than that they favored long sleeve shirts worn in a layered style. The woman had a simple long sleeve tee on and jeans, but the shorter of the two men not only favored a leather jacket with his outfit, it certainly favored him as well. _Aw, c'mon, let it go!_ Aaron told himself.

A few moments later, he also told himself that he really did need to go to the bathroom, and the fact that he chose to use the public restrooms which were at the very back of the museum display area had nothing to do with the possibility of catching a glimpse of the guy with the leather jacket and the green eyes. Also, it was entirely coincidental that he chose the longest possible route through the collection to get there. He passed the man's female companion in front of the display case of the aliens supposedly found at the famous Roswell crash site, but she seemed to be having a fit of some sort.

"Ma'am?" He stopped, concerned. Approaching he was about to put a hand on her shoulder and ask what was the matter when he realized that she was laughing. "What--?"

She turned and noticed his expression. "I am sorry if we disturbed you, I just…" Her eyes went blank for a moment, but then she blinked and continued. "I remembered a funny story my friends told me, and your aliens here reminded me of it." She smiled sincerely, and Aaron stepped back, relieved. Although he couldn't think of any story he knew which would cause such paroxysms of laughter, it was certainly better than having to deal with a hysterical tourist. Despite her odd behavior, she seemed to be perfectly alright now, and continued smiling at him reassuringly.

"Is everything all right here?" The tall man with the shaggy hair came up on them, his brows drawn together in a concerned look. "Sarai, are you alright?"

"I am fine, Sam." The woman reassured her friend. "I was simply talking to this young man about the display."

Aaron nodded. "Is there anything you have questions about?" He asked, as per his uncle's instructions, when what he really wanted to ask was about the third member of their party.

Unfortunately for Aaron, Sam did have a question, about one of the artifacts in the collection. After explaining what he could, Aaron excused himself and finished his quest to answer the call of nature.

An hour and a half later, Aaron was contemplating how upset his uncle would be if he surfed the internet while on duty, when a person approached the front desk and interrupted him. Aaron began his spiel before he looked up, closing the game of solitaire he had going. Just as well since he'd had nothing to work with. "We close at 4 today, but if you'd like to purchase admission, adults are-" And he stopped when he saw who it was. The green eyed man in the leather jacket looked slightly uncomfortable and Aaron caught him throwing a glance over his shoulder as if checking for observers. _Oh please, oh please. _Aaron thought. _Could this possibly be it?_ _Of course not, stop being a moron._ Hope warred against realism, and Aaron had to clear his throat before he could ask, "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah. I was just wondering… the place is really clean and everything, I mean, I couldn't help but notice, and I wanted to ask about….."

Aaron's hope's plummeted as he stopped listening to the guy's rambling question. Disappointment made his answer short, when he finally realized the man was asking about their janitor. "He's been here for four years, I don't know where he worked before that, and he does his job well enough. If you want more information, you can leave a comment card here with your name and number on it."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

Aaron turned back to his computer game, and rested his head on his hand. _Solitaire indeed. _He thought. _I really wish I was straight sometimes. Then maybe I'd have a shot at that woman he came in with. She was good looking, and didn't seem to be with either of those guys…Aw, who am I kidding…_

_R'kenoth, can you _believe_ the stories these Taur'i tell about extraterrestrial beings?_ Sarai had recovered herself from her fit of laughing the clerk had observed, and had read everything in the museum about all the supposed UFO sightings and research up to the present day. _//Well, they are not far off in their approximation of the Asgard, though one does wonder just which member of that species was foolish enough to interfere with the local population of a world under the Protected Planets Treaty.//_ R'kenoth was more interested in the universal implications of the information held in this museum than about the inaccuracies about life on other planets which amused Sarai so much. _I have heard from the members of SG-1 that an Asgard called Loki was discovered in such a meddling position. _Sarai commented, wandering through the exhibits until she came back to the one which depicted the "Roswell Grays." //_I do recall something along those lines, yes...// _R'kenoth agreed.

"Hey, you ready to leave?" Dean abruptly appeared at her shoulder, startling her.

R'kenoth replied. "Yes, I believe so. It is nearing the closing hour as well, is it not?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go tell Sam." Dean turned away, thinking how weird it was to hear proper English spoken by a foreigner. "We'll be at the car."

Aaron stared at the clock, counting the seconds until he could close up. A few tourists on their way out were friendly, leaving with a "Thanks!" or a wave, but for the most part Aaron was ignored as part of the scenery in the lobby. Which, to be honest, was absolutely fine by him at this point. _I swear that second hand hasn't moved for two minutes. I wonder if the clock is broken._ He checked his cell phone, but unfortunately the clock was keeping correct time. A family called "Thank you!" on their way out, and Aaron waved, giving them a fake smile.

"I swear Sam, it's a good thing Dad didn't take us here when we were kids, or you'd have convinced him to buy the whole damn gift shop."

The distinctive voice caught Aaron's attention, and all thoughts of time were forgotten as he watched his favorite visitor cross the lobby in company of his tall friend. Realizing they were leaving and that he was losing his one chance to make conversation, Aaron screwed up his courage and called out, "What'd you think of the museum?"

Barely acknowledging him, the object of Aaron's attention flashed him a smile Aaron recognized as fake as his own of a moment ago, and said something generic and genial. "Very nice."

The other man's smile was much more sincere. "It was very interesting; you guys have a lot of cool stuff here." It seemed that he was going to continue, but his friend was already out the door, heading to the parking lot. Realizing he was being left, the man called Sam tossed a "Have a good day!" back to Aaron and then he was gone as well.

Now thoroughly depressed by the complete rebuff of his overture at friendliness, Aaron ignored the rest of the tourists as they left, and closed up the museum in morose silence after the last of them had gone. _Well, that's the last I'll ever see of him_. Aaron thought, as he did a final round of the building, making sure the lights were off and the doors and windows secure. _If only he wasn't so good looking! Those eyes are going to be hard to forget…_

Lost in his thoughts, as he left the museum through the back door, he was unaware of the black cloud which had manifested itself in the backseat of his car. As he unlocked the door and got into the driver's side, he casually looked in the rear-view mirror. And saw only black. He quickly turned around, but before he could cry out in surprise, the black smoke had poured itself down his throat, taking complete control of what had once been Aaron Buckley.


	12. Chapter 10

I indulge in a little anthropo/mytho-logical musing in this chapter, but there's action too! Let me know what you think.

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**Chapter Ten:**

Dean finished pulling on his boots, and pushed himself up from his seat on the motel bed. "You two geeks had your 'fun', now it's time for Dean's version of a good time."

Sarai was lying on top of the other bed, looking through the pamphlets she had picked up at the museum, and holding the grey blow-up alien she had bought at the gift shop. The thing disturbed Dean, but he did his best to ignore its presence, since he knew Sam would tease him mercilessly about it. "Where are we going, Dean?" She asked.

"_We_ aren't going anywhere." Grabbing his jacket and the keys to the Impala, Dean grinned at his brother and opened the door. He paused on the threshold, tossed, "Have fun babysitting," and then disappeared. A moment later they heard the Chevy's engine rev, and the roar as it pulled out of the parking lot.

Sam rolled his eyes. He'd seen this coming for awhile. It wasn't that Dean was an insensitive womanizer who couldn't go a month without getting drunk or getting laid….he just liked having a good time… Sam sighed. There was no point in trying to explain or rationalize his brother's actions. "Don't mind him; he just needs to get away for awhile. Just because we're brothers doesn't mean we have the same idea of what constitutes fun."

"So I have noticed." Sarai grinned, and went back to reading her booklet.

For lack of any other entertainment, Sam turned on the TV. The first channel was some pay per view item, the next a network of questionable taste that Sam did not feel comfortable watching with Sarai in the room. He quickly changed the channel, landing on a science fiction show about ghost hunters. Caught by surprise, he coughed, and again hastily pushed button on the remote, landing this time in the much safer territory of a NASCAR race.

The volume of the television distracted Sarai from her reading and she looked up in time to catch the preview for "Spirits of the Dead." Even though R'kenoth was more interested in why anyone would want to waste hours of their life watching motorized vehicles travel around in a circle repeatedly, Sarai's interest was piqued by the mention of ghostly apparitions. "Sam, what was that program that was on a moment ago, the one about the after-life?"

"Um…oh, you mean the ghost one? It's just a made up story about people who kill spirits of the restless dead. Dumb stuff." He fought back the voice in his head telling him madly, _Deny, Deny, Deny!_ and struggled to present a calm face.

"So your people don't believe in life after death? Where do these spirits come from?" Sarai set aside her brochures, giving Sam her full attention.

"Well, like I said, the show is just pretend, but there are many different beliefs held in this county. Some people believe in ghosts, some don't. If you're religious, there's the belief in a place you go after you die, and depending on how you've lived your life it's either a good place or a bad place." Muting the television, Sam sat back on the bed. He didn't really care about NASCAR anyway, and his initial reluctance to broach the topic of the supernatural was swiftly giving way in favor of the academic discussion it seemed they were now entering into.

Sarai nodded. It seemed a typical primitive belief pattern like she and R'kenoth had seen on other planets. However, unlike many of those, this planet had not been heavily influenced by false gods after Ra had left many ages ago. "Even those who do not believe in any gods, do they believe in spirits?"

Sam nodded. "There are many people who don't think of themselves as religious, and don't pray to any God who still believe spirits exist. The thing is," Sam caught himself. "I mean, one of the theories is that ghosts are spirits of people who have unfinished business with the living, who can't let go of their past and get stuck in between life and death."

"What becomes of these spirits? And what awaits them in death?" _//Sarai,// _R'Kenoth cautioned//_these stories are not real. Ascension is the only way for the 'soul' to leave behind the physical body, and those who have reached Enlightenment have no reason to stay on this plane of existence._//

_I know, _said Sarai. _But it is intriguing nevertheless. We have always attributed stories of ghosts and spirits on other worlds as being the result of misunderstood advanced technologies seen through primitive cultural lenses, but here it seems they exist of their own accord._

"No one really knows, but like I said, the different religions each have their own concepts of Heaven and Hell. Although that's mostly just Christianity and the offshoots of Western religion, there are many other religious teachings which don't really mention an afterlife as such. I mean, there's also the idea of reincarnation…" Sam trailed off, as he saw that Sarai had gotten a glassy look in her eyes. He felt vaguely offended; she was the one who had introduced the topic in the first place. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

"What?" Her eyes came into focus again, and she blushed slightly in embarrassment when she realized he was irritated. "I apologize, I was only thinking about what you have said. These ghosts, who cannot fully accept death, do they remain on this plane forever?"

"Plane?" He was not sure if the word was the result of her language skills or a subconscious choice, but it caused Sam to wonder if maybe she had more familiarity with the topic than she was letting on.

"Do they stay here with living humans, on Earth." Sarai corrected.

"Yes, unless the cause of their haunting is discovered and resolved, or their bodies are salted and burned."

"Salt and fire as purifying elements." Sarai nodded.

Sam was astonished at her calm acceptance of the rituals which most people perceived to be nonsensical or ungodly. Her next words cleared up her angle of approach, however, much to his relief.

"Where do these superstitions come from?"

For a moment he had thought that this strange "exchange student" might actually be someone who knew about the hidden side of his and his brother's life, an idea which excited but also scared him. As long as it was there secret, shared only with a few people, their work was safe and no one was in a place to cast judgment on their actions.

"Um, yeah. As far as I know most of the stories and legends extend back to the days of close communities, oral tradition mostly. America is a nation of immigrants, for the most part, and the people brought their folktales and traditions with them from the Old Country."

Sarai smiled in amusement, and Sam paused, thrown. He was confused as to just what she thought was so funny about immigration. Seeing the perplexed look on his face, the young woman explained, "You remind me of Dr. Jackson. He is an anthropologist and expert in folklore and cultural mythology."

"Yes, well…" Sam trailed off. How was he going to explain his knowledge of all things supernatural? He'd already told her that he was a pre-law student, so he couldn't very well claim to be a humanities major and change his story at this point.

Realizing they'd come to an awkward topic, Sarai brought the conversation back to its origin. "On this television show, what exactly is the objective?"

Back on solid ground, although not completely out of the woods yet, Sam replied, "Remember that most of it is faked, but these guys are trying to use scientific instruments to definitively decide whether or not ghosts and spirits, from folk tales and ghost stories, are real or if they're just manifestations of human imagination."

_//Finally, some sensible taur'i.//_

_R'kenoth, he said it was not real, just an entertainment show. _

_//I realize that Sarai, but you cannot truly give credence to these stories?// _

_Reken, you almost sound…fearful. _R'kenoth did not reply, and Sarai quickly spoke the first thing that came to mind so Sam would not become suspicious at her long pause in their conversation. "If modern Americans do not believe the stories are real, what do they credit as the source?"

"Mostly just human psychology, I guess. People making up creatures to explain things they didn't have answers for. Some scholars believe that's why there're so many elements in common between the mythologies of different cultures all over the world." Sarai nodded, it was an understandable explanation for the Earth scientists to make.

"Although," Sam continued, trying to lighten the mood. "There're some nut jobs who have wild theories about aliens and cross-pollination of world cultures." A grin broke over his face and he waited expectantly for a laugh, or at least an amused smile.

"I see." Was the only response he got; that and a sort of half-smile which didn't reach her eyes.

His attempt at humor having fallen flat on its face, Sam coughed, and awkwardly turned back to the TV, which was now showing a commercial for Budweiser. Which reminded him… "I'd better give Dean a call, see if he's planning on coming back here later tonight to sleep."

"Why-?" Sarai began, but R'kenoth quickly answered before the query emerged fully from her lips. _//I believe Dean has gone in search of female companionship for the night, Sarai.// _The tok'ra said delicately. _Oh!_ It finally clicked for Sarai. _ Of course, he is an unattached young male, and not bad taur'i specimen._ Sarai wasn't quite sure how she felt about the issue.

Sam had grabbed his cell phone from off the low dresser, and missed Sarai's half-asked question. Dialing, the phone rang twice before it was answered with a brief "Yeah?"

"Hey, are you planning on coming back tonight?"

"What?" There was the sound of raucous laughter in the background, and the clink of beer bottles.

"Are you sleeping at the hotel?" Sam yelled into the phone.

"No way, man! Sierra promised to show me her photos!" Dean was also shouting, and Sam held the phone away from his ear. He could practically see his brother's wide grin. "I've always had an interest in art, Sammy, you know that."

"Yeah, the kind they have in Playboy. See you tomorrow."

"What?"

"Bye!" Sam heard no farewell from his brother, but the phone was disconnected. Sam apologized to Sarai, "Sorry about the yelling, Dean's in a bar, and it's hard to hear…"

Sarai nodded, but was clearly distracted by something. "Do you truly think that the theory of intercultural cross-pollination by extra-terrestrials is so unreasonable? You seem to have a great interest in alien life at the museum this afternoon." R'kenoth couldn't help but pursue the new direction their conversation had taken.

And for the second time in as many days, Sam found himself deep in discussion about the likelihood of life on other planets, and whether or not any extra-terrestrials had visited Earth.

Dean, meanwhile, was busy studying the life on this planet. He'd driven past the downtown area, ignoring the tourist bars and clubs, until he'd found a spot near the edge of town. The parking lot had first caught his eye, populated as it was with motorcycles and trucks. But what really drew him in was the '67 Ford Mustang parked near an old '63 Mercury Comet. His Impala would be in good company tonight. And hopefully, so would he.

Ordering a drink at the bar, Dean gave the denizens a once over. The bikers were clearly regulars and were having a noisy and energetic party near the pool table on the other side of the room, in addition to the few solitary drinkers hunched over the bar. Then his attention was caught by a table in the middle of the room, full of people about his age, dressed casually for a night out with friends. Dressed casually, that is, if you count the form fitting purple tank top and short black skirt the blonde woman was wearing when she came up to order drinks for the group 'casual'.

"Hi." Dean opened with a relaxed greeting. "Celebrating something special?" He nodded towards the table she'd just left. He figured even if she was attached, the other two girls at the table with the two guys offered him at least a 50/50 chance.

She smiled in response, and flirtatiously invited him to come join them, saying the occasion was of their own making.

Several hours later, Rebecca, the blonde, was Dean's new best friend. Turns out she was an aspiring photographer, had done some freelance work for local papers, and was more than interested in giving Dean a private showing…of her pictures, of course.

Dean was ordering another drink when Sam called. He tried to go to a quiet corner to hear what his brother was saying, but he still had to put his drink down and cover his other ear. Distracted, he didn't notice the slight young man who brushed past him, and knocked into his drink which was sitting on a table near by.

When Dean picked up his drink again, he notice that some had been sloshed over the sides, but didn't think anything of it, other than to curse about getting it getting all over his hands as he carried it back to the table.

It was only later, when he started to slur his words and have trouble walking, that it occurred to Dean that perhaps something was wrong. "Hey guys, I'm gonna use the res' room, be righ' back." He muttered, and staggered to the back of the bar, looking for somewhere to puke, piss, or otherwise get rid of whatever it was in his system that was messing him up. He hadn't lost track of the drinks he'd had, and he was no where near his usual threshold of drunkenness.

As he steadied himself on the wall of the hallway leading to the toilets, a man came up behind him. "Hey, you alright?" The bright, concerned voice penetrated the haze which Dean currently inhabited. He looked up slowly, and after a minute recognized the features of the young clerk from the UFO museum he'd gone to with Sam and Sarai. "Sam…" He muttered.

"Is that your friend? Do you want me to take you to him?" The overly helpful suggestions raised half a dozen alarm bells, but they were muffled by the fog shrouding Dean's mind. "Car, outside." He managed. _I can call…Sam…from there…_ He finished the thought internally, an accomplishment in and of itself, since the bar was going fuzzy around the edges and Dean was having trouble keeping upright, let alone thinking.

The young man helped Dean across the bar room and out the front door, an arm around his shoulders, and a hand clasping his tightly. Dizzy and sick, Dean could do nothing to but stagger towards the safety of his Impala. _What was in that drink?_ His mind screamed. _Gotta call Sam!_ His brother would set things right.

Out in the parking lot, Dean staggered and nearly fell, almost dragging his assistant down with hum. "S'rry," he murmured, but by now his vision was going dark, and he was leaning his full weight on the clerk for support.

"Don't mention it." Where before the young man's voice had been even, a pleasant, tenor pitch, it now was deeper and much more threatening. Had Dean not lost consciousness at that moment, he might have seen Aaron's eyes turn completely black. "It was my pleasure…or it will be…"

The demon picked up the unconscious hunter and slung him over one shoulder, carrying Dean towards to the far end of the parking lot. The poorly lit area afforded cover for the incongruous sight of a slightly built man carrying the sturdy form of an unconscious body with ease, as though it weighed less than a sick dog.


	13. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven:**

Sarai woke up with an intense itch on her arm, just behind her elbow. _R'kenoth, why is my arm irritated? _ Even as she asked, she craned her neck and twisted her arm, trying to catch a glimpse of the afflicted area.

//_I managed to heal that scratch you got, but the new skin is still in the initial phase of growth, and the scab will be itchy for some time.//_

_Thank you, I think._ Sarai was intensely grateful to the Tok'ra for saving her life, but she had not yet become fully accustomed to sharing custody of her body. There were definite advantages, but at the same time you were no longer really in charge of 'your' body. _You know, Reken, sometimes I do not mind letting scratches heal the slow way; I do not want you to tire yourself needlessly._

Before R'kenoth had a chance to reply, they were distracted by Sam's agitated manner as he did something with his cell phone on the other side of the room.

"C'mon, Dean, where are you?" Sam had gotten a voice-mail from Bobby regarding a potential case, and mentioned that he'd been unable to get a hold of Dean. Sam had chalked this off as part of Dean's night out on the town, but when he'd tried calling this morning, the phone went right to voice mail after a few moments. Now on his third attempt to reach his older brother, Sam couldn't help but be worried. Not with all the things they had chasing them.

"Sam, what is wrong?" Absently itching her elbow, Sarai came up to stand next to the anxious man.

Sam glanced out the window, as if the Impala would be summoned by his gaze to the parking lot. "Um, it's nothing. I just can't get a hold of Dean, that's all. But I'm sure he's just ignoring my calls. I mean, it's not even 8 am yet." Even as he spoke, Sam realized that he was trying to reassure himself as much as Sarai. He forced a smile. "Why don't we go find a restaurant and eat breakfast? It would serve Dean right to miss out on it, after he ditched us last night without a second thought."

"Okay!" Sarai practiced one of the slang terms she had picked up, and was pleased to see the fake smile on Sam's face turn into a real one. "I would like to try waffles."

_**Somewhere near Roswell, NM, the dark interior of a cabin**_

Dean was first aware of the pounding in his head, and for a moment wondered whether last night had actually been worth it. The chick had been hot, but if he'd gotten as wasted as the headache indicated…

Then he remembered: _I never even got to second base! _Well aware now that something was wrong, he cautiously opened his eyes. "Fantastic," he tried to say, but there was a gag in his mouth, and it came out more "fmphafk." _Don't tell me I'm tied to a chair…_Dean rolled his eyes. Bad guys were so unoriginal. He looked around the room, searching for clues as to who had captured him and why. All he remembered about the previous night was passing out on his way to the car, after the museum guy'd helped him out the door…

_That punk! _He couldn't believe it. The kid looked like he was barely out of high school, why would he kidnap Dean? There was no way he could think all this was worth a ransom, and a mugger wouldn't bother with kidnapping. What the hell was going on here? He tried to go through a mental list of the enemies he and his family had made in the past few years, but everyone he could think of was either dead, or wanted _him_ that way. This was definitely not the normal MO of the things they hunted.

The cabin seemed to be the average, non-creepy kind used by hikers and out-doors enthusiasts. No blood stained knives or implements of torture decorated the walls, just a pair of snowshoes and in the corner was a backpack and what looked to be a climbing harness. There were even two front windows with curtains on them.

Dean tested the ropes, but as he'd suspected when he saw the climbing gear, his bindings were firm, and the knots well tied. _Aw, shit. Sam's gonna be pissed. _Why did he always end up tied to a chair? _Being demon bait is supposed to be Sam's gig! _

The front door swung open, and the young man who'd assisted Dean last night came in and flipped on the light-switch.

Blinking at the sudden brightness, Dean realized he was sitting in a fairly nice living room. In the darkness, he hadn't noticed the polished wooden floor, or the couch in the back of the room. Hell, there was even a TV set in the opposite corner!

"Mwpgh!!" Dean yelled, glaring fiercely at his captor. There was no fear in his eyes, just rage and irritation.

"Good morning! How're you feeling?" The man came in, and causally put his keys in his pockets as he stood over Dean. "You can call me Aaron, and I already know who you are, Dean Winchester." Reaching around Dean's head, Aaron untied the gag, making sure his arms were out of the way in case Dean should try and bite him. Prisoners were always so cranky when they first realized they had been kidnapped.

"Listen to me, you sick bastard. You untie me right now and I _might_ just kick your ass, and not kill you." Dean was literally spitting mad. He ranted at Aaron a few more moments before Aaron got bored with the creative expletives and shoved the gag back in. "I think that's enough for now. My turn!"

Aaron drew back from Dean a little ways, and then walked behind him, out of his range of sight. Despite himself, Dean's muscles tensed, and he could feel his heart rate increase. But Aaron had only gone to get a stool, which he set in front of the bound Dean and perched on. _If he starts monologuing, I swear I'm gonna _die_ here_, Dean thought.

"So." Aaron stared at Dean, and Dean stared back defiantly. Suddenly, Aaron's blue eyes turned completely black. "Why can't I possess you?"

Dean jerked back. "_What the hell!_"He yelled, or tried to.

"You see," the demon possessing Aaron continued, "I had this perfect plan for wreaking havoc against all those who stand against my kind. Simple really. Turn them against each other." He grinned, and it was nothing like the smile Dean had received at the museum yesterday afternoon. "I suppose you've heard the old saying, 'set a thief to catch a thief'? Well, it works even better with hunters."

He got up and stood behind Dean. Dean twisted his body to try and keep the demon in sight, but Aaron grabbed Dean's head, and with unnatural strength held him still. "And who better to start with than Dean Winchester? Your brother is already spoken for, but you? You're fair game." His grip tightened and Dean held back a whimper of pain.

"But something is stopping me and I want to know what." He quickly untied the gag and was in front of Dean before the hunter had time to do anything other than take a deep breath.

"Are you sure it's not just that you're incompetent?" Replied Dean snarkily. Truth be told, at that moment he had no idea what the demon was talking about.

A hard slap across the face was all the answer he got. "Why can't I possess you?"

"Look, I don't know. And if I did, why the hell would I tell you?" Dean worked his jaw, wincing at the pain.

Another slap. Dean's face was stinging, and he just knew he was gonna get whiplash from all this. "Wait, you're going to bitch-slap me 'till I cooperate? What is this, a slumber-party?"

Whatever reaction Dean had expected from his smart-ass remarks, it was not the smile which now crossed Aaron's face. "There is a certain lack of atmosphere here, isn't there." He said ruefully, and stood up, stretching out his back. As Dean watched in bemusement, the demon turned off the light, closed the drapes, and returned to his prisoner. "Darkness, that's what was missing. This is much better."

_Just my luck to get captured by a demon three fries short of a happy meal_. Dean thought, and for a moment had to fight the urge to let out a mad giggle.

"Tell you what, Deano, I'm going to go watch some TV, and you stay here and try to think of an answer to my question, hm?"

"Seriously man, you need to work on your-" Dean's trademark smirk was back in the game, as were his wise-cracks. But before he could actually finish his current gem, from out of nowhere came Aaron's fist, which connected with his face in a blow that was certainly no love tap. The gag was back in before Dean actually realized what was happening, but Aaron was done with him for the time being.

Swearing under his breath, Dean saw stars. _Sammy, you sure as hell had better be having a better day than I am. Oh, and take your sweet time finding me, okay? Because this place is really rockin'. _Of course to Dean, it was literally rocking, but that was due more to the fact that his head was still spinning from that last blow, and less to the ambiance or relative coolness of his current surroundings.

Lunchtime, and still no word from Dean.

Sarai, at the insistence of Sam, had chosen a movie to see, and Sam sat in the darkened theater completely unaware of what movie they were presumably watching. _Okay, one night isn't that unusual for Dean, and he likes to sleep in when he can. But he's not answering his phone and it's not like him to go off without out at least _telling_ me where he's going_. Sam fidgeted in the plush seat. His instincts were telling him it was all tied to their work as hunters. But from what information he'd been able to gather from the locals, nothing strange had been happening lately. No odd disappearances, murders or even mangled animal corpses.

He'd had to be discrete with his inquiries, since he didn't want Sarai to realize that they really were hunters of all evil supernatural things. Sure, the Air Force guys had known what they were trying to do with the salt and everything back at the base, but they'd just assumed it was nonsense. If Sarai ever found out that they were deadly serious about the all the paranormal stuff…well, they could say goodbye to that bonus they'd been counting on at the end of this trip.

Sam couldn't exactly file a missing person's report on Dean, _and it hasn't been forty-eight hours yet, either_, he reminded himself. He fretted for the next hour and a half, and then quickly rushed them back to the motel. Thanks to Dean's disappearance, they'd had to walk since the Impala was also AWOL. Luckily, the motel wasn't too far from the center of town.

"I'm gonna go for a quick walk. I think that movie gave me a headache." Sam lied. "Just stay here, okay? Call me if you need anything." Dropping Sarai off at the motel room, Sam took off for an investigative stroll around the area.

R'Kenoth was not amused, but Sarai was. _Clearly he's worried sick about his brother, R'Kenoth, it's rather sweet._

The tok'ra symbiote would've snorted if she'd been in control of their body. //_Also, extremely rude. There is no reason that he should attempt to hide his motivation from you, Dean is obviously missing. Besides, we could have been of help.//_

_True. The more pairs of eyes looking, the better the chances of being seen._ Sarai replied, repeating a common saying from her homeland. She looked at the digital time piece next to the lamp on the bedside table. _It's time for our weekly check in with Stargate Command. Should we report this development, Reken?_ The Tok'ra bowed her head, and R'Kenoth's eyes flashed as she took control. "I feel we must."

* * *

A/N: I promise I will bring SG-1 back into this story, but I have a lot of ideas, and too much fun stuff to put in first! 


	14. Author's Note

**Important Author's Note:**

Because of a policy I found out that has regarding posting a story in more than one category of television series, even if it is appropriate because of the subject material, if you would like read the rest of "Supernaturalgate" you can find it by going to my profile page and looking up "Tok'ra Hunt." Thanks very much for all of your feedback and comments. I hope you have as much fun reading my stories as I have writing them! Yay for Supernatural and Stargate SG-1!


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